Flying High, Falling Hard
by theatrewraith
Summary: When Becca crosses paths with Steve Rogers, she has no idea that she met the super-soldier from WWII. What Steve doesn't know is that Becca has a drug habit that is only getting worse. How can Steve rescue the woman he loves when she doesn't want to be saved?
1. First Impressions

New York City was always in a rush, no matter the time or day, and its residents were rarely an exception. Becca considered herself more easy-going than many of them, but right now she was irritated. She surveyed the park from where she was leaning against a tree. Where the hell was Derek? She'd been waiting for almost half an hour already. She tilted her head to peer around the side of the tree, but there was still no sign of him. She shoved her hands into her pockets.

"This is bullshit," she muttered.

Well, if she was going to be waiting a while, she might as well find a place to sit. She walked back onto the path and followed it along, passing by a bench taken by a couple, then an elderly woman. The next bench had one guy sitting on it, whereas the one after was full, so she decided to stop. Plus, leather jacket man was kind of hot.

"Hi," she greeted. The man looked up, his blue-eyed gaze taken aback. "Do you mind if I sit here? The other benches are full."

"Sure. Yeah," he offered, gesturing towards the other end of the bench.

"Thanks."

Becca plopped down, pulling her purse onto her lap to take the weight off of her shoulder. She stretched out her legs in front of her and crossed her ankles. It felt so good just to sit. Of course, she'd feel even better if Derek showed up. Another sweep of the park told her that he hadn't. She dug in her purse for her phone so she could listen to some music, and then remembered that she'd left it in her apartment. Awesome.

Her eyes slid sideways to the man sharing the bench. He was focused on writing something in a small notebook. She knew that she shouldn't be nosy, but she was both bored and curious, and that was the perfect combination for nosiness. Casually, she leaned her head back to get a better view. No, he wasn't writing. He was sketching the park.

"That's pretty good," Becca noted.

He appeared to be close to her age, which was a little old for art school student material, so he must just be one of the many aspiring artists in New York. Actually, he could be a famous artist for all she knew. She wasn't really up on the art scene. He glanced up at her and back to his drawing, tilting it to put the sketch in a better light.

"Thanks," he responded.

"You're welcome."

As he hadn't tried to move the drawing away, Becca felt free to examine it more closely. She should have been more generous. The likeness was spot-on. He used all those techniques she vaguely remembered from middle school art classes, stuff like perspective and shading. There was one thing she noticed in particular, though.

"Not to trample on your artistic vision, but I think if you did the tree over there–" She gestured to the real tree, which hadn't been included in the drawing. "–it would really balance the sketch out. Of course, that's my completely unprofessional I-literally-can-only-draw-stick-figures opinion, so do feel free to ignore it."

However, he didn't dismiss her opinion. The pen he was holding stopped moving, and he eyed the drawing critically. He had a very grave expression, this guy. Becca understood that there were times when one needed to be serious, but she didn't count sketching in the park as one of those times.

"Smile, dude," she prompted. "It's just a park. I really have no idea what I'm talking about when it comes to art either. Here." She held out a hand. "Do you want me to draw something? I guarantee you that it'll make you feel great about your artistic ability. Although, I can do a pretty mean square." The corner of his mouth twitched up, and she grinned. "Much better." Well, the smile was a small one, but good enough. It was cute. She turned the hand that was already outstretched. "I'm Becca, by the way, and I promise I'm only obnoxious about half the time."

"Steve." They shook hands. He had a strong handshake, which Becca liked because that's how she gave them. "And I, uh, don't think you're obnoxious."

"Well, thank you." Becca laughed. "I wish I had my phone so I could get you to explain that to my parents, but apparently that is not meant to be." She tucked back a lock of dark blonde hair as the breeze blew it across her face and used the moment of silence to look over the park. Frustratingly, there was still no sign of Derek. "So, Steve, you sketch here a lot or just passing through?" she asked. He gave a bit of a shrug with both shoulders.

"I've been here a couple times. What about you?"

"Oh, I come here occasionally. I'm supposed to be meeting someone, but…" She pushed back the edge of her sleeve to check her watch. She sighed. "Yeah, they're really late." She dropped the edge of the jacket. "And here I am instead, so feel free to dazzle me so that I am quite thoroughly distracted in the meantime." She spread her arms invitingly.

His eyebrows rose. "So, no pressure."

"None at all." She grinned.

Steve's forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows drew together, either in an attempt to think of something dazzling or trying to find a way to put her off. Well, in any case, that struggling look on his face made it hard not to giggle. Poor guy, she was only teasing. Apparently, she'd gone and overdone it again. Nice one, Becca.

"Or, since I started this conversation, I suppose that's up to me to keep this interesting," she quickly offered instead, before he stressed himself out. "Um…Well, I can do this one thing." She set her purse on the bench and got to her feet. "Some people think it's kind of gross, so you've been forewarned."

Steve let out a breath that sounded like it was on the verge of a laugh. "Okay."

"All right. Here we go."

Becca wriggled her fingers to focus herself, staring at the railing along the outside of the park. Then, she slowly raised her arms until they were stretched straight up towards the sky. Now, here was the difficult part. She took a breath and relaxed as much as she could. She moved her shoulders, feeling a temporary pinch, and then it was gone and she was letting her hands fall backwards and swing around. Her arms had rotated a whole three-hundred-and-sixty degrees.

She'd been hit by a truck a little over a month ago, and this trick of dislocating her shoulders was about the only good thing to come out of it. She held out her hands by her sides and waved them in a 'ta-da' gesture. From his expression, she was sure that was not at all what he'd been expecting, but he still had that small smile.

"That was…" He hesitated, glancing up at the sky as he searched for a word.

"Weird?" she volunteered, dropping her arms.

"Yes – no."

Becca sat back down. "It's okay. I'm not offended."

"Well, I certainly can't do anything like that."

"Can you whistle?"

"Can I… whistle?" Steve repeated.

"Yeah, you know, whistling. Can you do it?"

"Sure, but that's nothing special."

"Well, I can't whistle, so I'm endlessly fascinated by people who can." Becca rested an arm on the back of the bench and leaned her head against the back of her hand. "So let's hear a few notes."

Steve shook his head, but it wasn't a refusal. It looked more like he couldn't believe this conversation was happening. Then, he began to whistle. He was great at it, but since she couldn't whistle herself, she tended to think that about everyone. At least, the notes didn't sound off-key. He didn't go on for long, and she clapped a few times when he stopped, causing him to let out that laugh-like breath again.

"Thanks, but like I said, I don't think that quite measures up."

She shrugged. "Hey, I liked it fine. Better than doing something–"

"Weird," Steve offered.

Her eyes widened with surprise. So this guy could be sassy.

"All right, mister." She crossed her arms. "I said I liked it fine, not that it was better than my trick."

"Sorry." The apology sounded sincere, although the lingering smile negated it a bit. Not that it really mattered, as Becca wasn't actually upset.

"Uh-huh. You'd better be." Becca glanced to the side and did a double take as she spotted Derek out of the corner of her eye. Finally. She pulled her purse strap back up over her shoulder. "Well, I gotta go, but it was nice meeting you, Steve."

If Steve was surprised by her abrupt move to leave, he didn't show it. "Yeah, nice meeting you, too."

"And remember not to look so serious while you're sketching," she added.

"Right. I'll remember."

Satisfied, Becca gave him a single wave of her hand and hurried off down the path to where Derek was waiting.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Welcome to my first Avengers fanfic! There will be fluff, sass, angst, romance, and lots of other fun things. This is a short chapter just to kick things off, but expect more from here on out. **

**Steve has only recently woken up in the 21st century. This fanfic is starting about a month before the Avengers film, but we will get there. I'm taking a few liberties with the timeline.**

** As I mentioned in the summary, Becca will be developing an addiction, specifically to prescription medication (Oxycodone and Adderall). This will become more central to the story as the addiction progresses. **

**Rated M for substance abuse, language, canon-typical violence, and fonduing, er, sexual situations. **

**I very much appreciate reviews, favorites, follows, and all that good stuff. **

**Many thanks to my betas, michysminions and anselm0. **


	2. Operation Frozen Deliciousness

If Becca didn't get ice cream, she was going to die. Okay, she wasn't actually going to die, but that's how it felt as she stared into the freezer which was sadly devoid of ice cream. She shut the door and opened it again, which had the usual effect of doing absolutely nothing. She prodded half-heartedly between the bags of frozen vegetables and popcorn chicken as if that might do what closing the door had not. She could ask Ally, her roommate, to pick up a carton on the way home from work. She leaned back to get a better view of the clock on the microwave.

"Ugh, three hours," she groaned. She wasn't waiting three hours. She needed ice cream _now_.

The nice thing about working from her apartment was that she could get ice cream if she wanted. Becca ran a brush through her hair a few times, put on some mascara, threw on a cardigan over an old t-shirt that was making its current living as pajamas, and called that good enough. It wasn't like she was going to impress anyone when she set down a huge tub of ice cream with what would definitely be too much enthusiasm. Oh well, she would be damned if she was going to let anyone's opinions come between her and her one true love: food.

Becca took out a bottle of prescription Oxycodone and another bottle with Adderall from a drawer in her bedroom. She swallowed one tablet from each and tossed the rest of the bottles into her purse as an added precaution. With her purse slung over her shoulder, she marched out of the apartment on a mission. Operation Frozen Deliciousness was a go.

There were a few close convenience stores that had small tubs of Ben &amp; Jerry's or ice cream sandwiches. However, Becca decided that she'd rather hit up a supermarket so she could get enough that there wouldn't be another ice cream crisis in the foreseeable future. The nearest was a bit of a walk, but she considered that burning off all of the calories she was going to consume later.

Becca forded into the busy streets partly wishing that the rain promised by the news was actually happening so that the sidewalks would be clearer. She devoted her thoughts instead to the all-important task of choosing a flavor, and by the time she was within blocks of the supermarket, she was fairly certain she was in the mood for mint chocolate chip. Although, cookie dough was also sounding pretty good. Or black raspberry. Okay, maybe this needed further consideration.

Becca waited on the fringes of a crowded crosswalk bouncing on her heels in anticipation. Someone jostled her elbow causing her to shuffle automatically out of the way. She glanced up to where people were joining the crowd as they streamed across from another crosswalk. Before her eyes could drift back to the red signal, she saw someone in the flood that she recognized. It was that hot artist guy from the park a few days ago! And he was once again looking a little too serious. Shit, what was his name? And why hadn't she put on something that looked less like she'd fallen straight off of her couch?

A hand through her hair was the best she could do before calling, "Hey!"

A ripple of heads turned in her direction, but his was one of them. Becca smiled and waved. She couldn't remember his name. Kevin? Chris? No, that was totally wrong.

The man's eyes flicked to the side as though she might be talking to someone else. When no one responded on either side of him, his attention turned back to her.

Becca was feeling an S-name, but that didn't narrow it down a whole lot. Damn. She beckoned to him, after which he finally returned a smaller version of smile she was giving him and shuffled his way through the crowd.

"Hi," she greeted once he was close enough.

"Hi," he echoed. "Becca, right?"

"Yeah." She was both pleased that he remembered her name and annoyed since she couldn't remember his. Not the best impression to make. Rather than have an awkward pause, she directly asked, "Sorry, what was your name, again? I'm so awful with names."

"Steve," he offered, fortunately not sounding offended.

"That's right." That wasn't even a hard name to remember. In her defense, she'd never expected to see him again. New York was a huge place. "Hi, Steve."

His smile stretched a little wider. "Hi."

The crosswalk signal finally flicked to a tiny white figure, and they followed the herd across the street.

"You coming back from the gym?" she asked, noticing the light sheen of sweat but choosing to indicate the duffel bag he was holding instead.

"Yeah."

"Ah. Good for you. I can't stand going to the gym. Those places cost…" She wrinkled her nose up and made a disgusted face. "Money."

He chuckled. "Well, I can't argue with that."

"Exactly, and going for a run outside is totally free, if slightly more dangerous." Or a lot more dangerous depending on the neighborhood. She shrugged. "But hey, that's me. Living on the edge, all day, every day."

"Oh, yeah?" His eyebrows rose. "And where is it you're headed?"

"To get ice cream," she informed him, attempting to strike a valiant pose while continuing to walk. "I might even mix two flavors. Like I said, living on the edge."

"Ice cream, huh?" Steve questioned. She nodded. "But doesn't that cost…"

Becca frowned, realizing where this was about to go. "Okay, hold on."

"…money?" The serious expression Steve was attempting to maintain couldn't hide the bemused spark in his eyes.

"All right, yes. But one –" She counted on her fingers. " – not as much money, and two, ice cream equals happiness and going to the gym equals pain and suffering."

"I don't know if that's right," Steve replied, nearly knocking into her when a man pushed past him. He barely spared the man a glance.

"What?" Becca gaped, exasperated.

Oh God, was he one of those people that really loved working out? Even more than ice cream? She never understood people like that, and so felt the compulsion to enlighten them. Besides, Becca had a feeling that if she left him, he'd go back to being all grim. If she could be any help with that she was happy to do so, especially if there was food involved. Not to mention, any excuse to hang out with someone cute was not to be passed up.

"You clearly have not had the right ice cream. I need to help you see the light. You should come with me."

Never mind the supermarket. She was taking him to Black Ice. The ice cream shakes from that shop made everything else seem bland and boring by comparison. If she could afford to go all the time and not have to roll down the street to get there, she would.

"Oh, um…" Steve tilted his head in the direction that was probably where he had heading.

"Unless you have somewhere else to be," she quickly added.

Becca had a bad habit of getting over excited or, as her younger brother put it, "frickin' pushy." This was important though. She couldn't let anyone go around thinking ice cream was anything less than complete amazingness. Furthermore, this was how she was normally, so Steve had might as well know what he was in for. Dialing her personality down took an effort only worthwhile at large family gatherings and meeting someone's parents. Unless she was making him really uncomfortable in which case…

"No," Steve assured her before she decided if she should back off any further. "I'd like to come."

"Okay, great!" She beamed. This was going to be even better than an entire tub of mint chocolate chip. "In that case, we're going to have to backtrack a bit."

Which on a busy sidewalk meant some tricky sidling through people to get to the opposite side of the sidewalk. It always gave her flashbacks to playing Frogger as a teen. However, they both managed with relatively little struggle and integrated back into the flow.

"You haven't been to Black Ice, have you?" she asked.

Steve shook his head. "No."

"Oh good. Well, not "good" because you've been missing out, but "good" because if you had and didn't believe ice cream is happiness then…" She shook her head. "…Then clearly you are just not a person."

"That good, huh?"

"The best," she sighed dreamily. "You'll see."

At least, Becca had never met anyone who regretting going. She hadn't been in a while though. When the price was six dollars for a regular sized shake, it was enough to put her off regular trips. In fact, the last time she remembered splurging was with Tess, and that had to be at least a few months ago. As much as she enjoyed going with a friend, going with a good looking guy, well…

Becca lifted her gaze, meeting Steve's eyes as he glanced at her, and widened her smile. He had to be single, right? True, he certainly didn't have the look of someone who would be single very often. He was tall; the top of her head just barely met his shoulders. Broad shoulders that hinted at muscle even if they were hidden beneath a jacket. He had a strong cut jaw, plus the blue eye/blonde hair combination going for him. His clothing reminded her vaguely of old photos of her grandfather, but it was clean and unrumpled. The older fashion worked on him in a weird way.

Don't stare. She focused back on making sure she wasn't going to run into anyone.

Guys in relationships didn't usually take random women up on offers of going out somewhere. Unless he was cheating. Not that this was a date in any way, but still. Besides, she wasn't getting a cheater vibe from him. Despite the occasion snappy comment, there was something about him that came across as uncertain. Ugh, with her luck he would probably turn out to be gay. Since they were together for a while, she did have time to find out.

"So are you from around here then?" she asked.

"Yeah," Steve answered, looking relieved for an easy topic of conversation. "I grew up in Brooklyn."

"Oh, no way."

"Yeah. How 'bout you?"

"Right state, different –" A car horn blared, and she paused until the annoyed driver stopped honking. "– different town. I'm from a small town up near the Canadian border. It's called Ellenburg." As usual, that got no reaction, so she continued, "But I moved here for college, and I liked it so much that I stayed."

"So you work in the city," Steve gathered.

"Even better. I work right in my apartment. I'm a copywriter, so you know all those ads you ignore on Facebook and other websites?" She pointed toward herself. "I write those. It pays decent, and it can be pretty fun. What's it you do?"

"I'm…" His forehead wrinkled as he winced. "I was in the army. I'm sort of… on a leave of absence."

And he did not look happy about it. "Oh." While Becca was curious, she didn't want to prod a touchy subject. "Um, well, at least that leaves you time to get roped into going out for ice cream, right?"

His smile resurfaced. "I've heard it's an experience."

"That sounds suspiciously like doubt in your tone, Steve," she noted, crossing her arms. He held up a placating hand, but she merely arched an eyebrow. "I'll make a believer out of you yet."

"I'm sure you will."

The comment didn't sound mocking, but she couldn't help giving him a light poke in the ribs. His hand rose in instinctive retaliation, but he seemed to think better of it because he dropped it right away. Not before Becca caught the movement though. He looked kind of embarrassed. It was cute.

Becca nodded to her right. "Come on. It's down here."

She directed them to another, narrower street. The constant stream of people ebbed. Most were hesitant to trek down a side street unless they knew where they were headed. However, those that did congregated around one specific place.

Despite the general dinginess, or perhaps because of it, Black Ice managed to have a gleaming quality about it. There were shards of black glass that glinted, lit from behind in a way that made the tips of the glass glow. That glass framed the doorway covering the edges of the tall, frosted windows. Inside were a slew of small tables and flat screens playing hipster music videos.

The line actually wasn't too bad. Becca had been here on much busier days. Of course, they were still outside of the door, but the place wasn't huge and the service was quick. She squinted through the windows, trying to read the large display of that day's flavors through a frosted section of glass and wishing she were taller.

"Okay, so you absolutely _have _to get an ice cream shake," she instructed. "The ice cream by itself is amazing, but the shakes are yuuuum." Her eyelids fluttered in pleasure just imagining the taste.

"Which one should I get?" Steve asked, attempting to get a look himself. The window was clearer at his eye level.

"Ah, they rotate the flavors out daily, so I couldn't tell you. Whatever you get, you will not be disappointed," she promised.

"Does…" He leaned forward, almost pressing his nose to the glass. "Does that say 'prosciutto melon'?"

Becca stood on her tip-toes to try and see over a wide section of frost in vain. Nope, not tall enough.

"Probably." She landed back on her heels. "They have interesting flavors."

"Uh huh."

"You don't have to get that flavor," she pointed out.

"Well, that's a relief."

"But you also don't get to back out now, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't."

"Uh huh," she rumbled in an exaggerated inflection of his voice.

Steve looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and she gave him her best innocent grin.

"They also have chocolate," he noted.

She snorted. "Booooring. I didn't rescue you from the insanity of thinking the gym is okay so you can make more bad choices."

"I don't think I've met anyone who thought chocolate is a bad choice."

She shrugged. "It is when you can find something better." Steve put out a hand to hold open the door as the line shuffled forward. "Thanks."

Since she could now see the screens that displayed all the flavors, Becca took few minutes to decide which one she wanted to get herself. There were so many good options, but she finally landed on strawberry lavender.

Steve was eyeing the display with a way too serious expression, so she nudged him.

"It's not a test. It's just ice cream," she said.

"It kind of feels like a test."

Her eyebrows drew together. "How?"

"Well, apparently chocolate was a wrong choice," Steve reminded her.

"Oh that." Becca waved a hand dismissively. "If you really want it, go ahead. I just like being difficult."

He laughed. "I noticed."

Becca's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

Steve's laughter spluttered out at the sharpness in her tone. Becca maintained a shocked expression, which was difficult as Steve's face was pretty priceless while he began to stutter through an apology, but only for a couple of seconds before she burst into giggles.

"I'm sorry," she wheezed. "I'm sorry. I'm not offended. It's fine. Oh my god, your face though." She shook her head, choking back deep breaths. "Sorry. Here, we have to choose what we want now, so I hope you're ready."

There was a touch screen that allowed them to put in orders a few customers ahead to keep the line going. Becca tried to control her laughter while she picked out her shake, but only fell into another fit of giggles when Steve muttered "difficult" under his breath.

At least Steve was smiling, so she didn't worry too much. That joke was only good once anyway. She could play nice for a while. Plus, he picked Buttermilk Caramel Apple, which was adventurous enough that she didn't have to tease him about it.

"A plus for you," she said. Oh, who was she kidding? Mostly not teasing. When he didn't press the "check out" button, she asked, "Did…you want anything else?"

"No, this is fine," he assured her.

"Okay." She pressed the button herself and took a step forward. "I hope you're excited."

"Definitely," he stated in such a flat tone that Becca gave him a look.

"Can I give you some advice?"

"Um, sure," he said.

"Never take up any profession that extensively involves lying."

"Noted," he laughed.

"Because you're really bad at it. I mean, really bad."

"Yeah, all right."

"I mean, like, if you had to lie to save your life, you'd probably fail." Becca shrugged in a mildly apologetic manner as Steve gave her a sideways look. "Don't you wish I had a mute button?"

"Well, I could answer, but like you said I'm not a good liar," he retorted with a grin.

Becca laughed. "I like you, Steve. I just might have to keep you."

It was out of her mouth before she could think, as was all too often the case. Becca's face flushed, and she bit down on the corner of her lip. That was a bit much taken the wrong way. She always rambled on until her big mouth got her in trouble.

Steve blinked, but as she looked embarrassed enough for both of them, he replied, "Is that going to involve coming here again? Because next time I'm getting chocolate."

Becca let out a relieved breath, the corners of her lips curving upwards. "If you must."

"Becca!" called a woman behind the counter.

"Ooo, that's us," Becca squealed, clasping her hands together in anticipation.

She took the two proffered shakes, checking the label before handing the correct one to Steve. The white styrofoam was so unsuspecting for all the tastiness it held, and also very cold. She switched between hands.

"That'll be thirteen seventy-five," the cashier stated after looking over their cups.

Becca set hers down in front of the cash register without taking a sip so she could dig through her purse for her wallet. Movement caught the edge of her vision. Steve had set his duffel bag on the floor and taken out a wallet.

"No way. I've got it," she stated. "I invited you."

Steve stopped with his hand in the billfold. "But –"

"Nope, it's my treat," she insisted, pulling out her own wallet.

"I can't –"

"Too late." She handed over a credit card before Steve could offer the cash. "It's nice of you to offer, but since I did invite you this one's on me."

Steve's fingers curled around the bills, and she thought he was going to press them on her. Then, he shifted them back into his wallet.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Becca signed her name and took her card back, shoving the entire wallet back into her purse so that she could pick up her shake. She scanned the tables, wondering if they were going to be out of luck or have do that thing where they pretended not to be hovering like vultures over someone who was cleaning up their table. As it turned out, neither was the case because one table was suddenly empty. She took the initiative to quickly thread her way over to it.

Once they were seated across from each other, she said, "All right, now take a sip of that shake and tell me it is not the best thing you have ever tasted.

* * *

Steve had no idea how he'd gotten here. It seemed like one minute he was walking back to his apartment and hearing a voice shouting "Hey!" in a crowd, and now here he was with the best tasting shake he'd ever had sitting across from Becca in an ice cream shop whose interior made it very apparent that it had been built within the last few years.

The entire situation should have made him uncomfortable. He still felt out of place when he was somewhere that gleamed with all the new technology and bright colors the twenty-first century had to offer. The food nearly always tasted unnaturally better, although that was a change he appreciated. Most of all, however, it was talking to Becca that was strange. He wasn't afraid of dames – women, no one said "dame" anymore – but he had never been good at talking to them, mostly because he hadn't gotten much of a chance. With Peggy, he'd gotten a bit better, but only after he'd gotten to know her. It was that beginning part where he stumbled all over himself, especially when they were beautiful. Maybe Becca wasn't dynamite beautiful, but she wasn't unattractive.

"Hello. Earth to Steve."

Maybe it was because Becca seemed so, well, normal that he liked her. She didn't take anything too seriously and had the kind of sardonic humor to which he could relate. Honestly, it was just nice to have someone to talk with. He hadn't realized how much he missed that until she came along. That was most of why he'd agreed to come here with her. That and he was so unused to having a woman ask him anywhere that he wasn't sure he could turn her down.

"Um, Steve?"

Steve blinked and looked up from his shake. Becca was staring at him with amusement, resting her chin on her hands. She lifted her head when she saw that she had his attention.

"There you are. I mean, I knew these shakes were great, but jeez, where'd you go?"

"Sorry," he apologized. "Sorry. I just…" He lifted his cup. "You were right. Happiness in a cup."

Her feature lit with triumph. "Told you." She took a sip and sighed. "Heaven."

"If you like the taste of flowers," he murmured over the rim of his shake.

Becca eyed him severely. "And your buttermilk apples whatever are any better?" she huffed.

"You don't like apples?" he asked in disbelief.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I like apples. I'm a human being. I just couldn't let you talk down my shake."

Steve shook his head and swallowed another mouthful. She hadn't been lying about this ice cream. He'd already downed half of it.

When Becca noticed, he thought she was going to tease him about it, but instead she said, "You should have seen the first time I got one of these. I chugged in about a minute without noticing. I'm pretty sure John still has a pic on his phone from that day. I'm looking at the bottom of the cup like I just lost a puppy in it or something."

He studied her carefully, wondering if he should ask about John. He knew this wasn't a date. At least, he hoped it wasn't. He didn't know what counted by today's standards. He was still trying to sort out just living in this century, never mind dating. He couldn't even get a real date back home. Deciding that she probably wouldn't think anything of the question, he asked.

"So is John your –"

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "Just a friend. I don't have a boyfriend." Becca tipped her head in a rapid, darting movement that reminded him of a bird. "Do you? Or a girlfriend or whatever?"

"No. No girlfriend."

He hadn't really even dated Peggy, although that hadn't diminished his feelings for her. As to having a boyfriend, he'd once thought maybe… But that memory hurt too much to prod so he buried it back way down deep.

"Well, friends are good, too." She slipped her long hair back behind her left ear, keeping it away from where it had been falling dangerous close to her shake.

"They are," he agreed. Dating was too much too soon, but a friend he wouldn't mind especially if they weren't going to treat him different from anybody else.

Becca held up her cup hopefully. "Friends?"

"Friends," he repeated, knocking his cup lightly against hers.

"And I know you mean it," she said. He lifted his drink. Becca took another sip of her shake before finishing, "Because you're a really awful liar."

Steve choked on a mouthful of shake, nearly unable to swallow it without spitting everywhere. Becca smiled to herself over the edge of her cup and winked at him.

He coughed, certain that he'd accidently inhaled some of the cold liquid. It felt like his throat was burning. He swallowed painfully.

"You don't let things go, do you?"

"I talked to you for five minutes a few days ago and now you're here in an ice cream parlor with me," she pointed out. "What do you think?"

Good point. He thought it over.

"I think we're going to have to come here again because this–" He tilted his cup. "–is the best thing I've ever tasted."

"No argument here. I wish they had cartons of this stuff you could bring home." She gave her cup a longing look. "Except the Olive Oil one." She wrinkled her nose, the light dusting of freckles across it clumping together. "That was a mistake."

"Olive Oil?" Steve tried to imagine the taste of that particular substance in ice cream and then decided that he'd rather not. "Suddenly, chocolate isn't sounding so bad, is it?" he said dryly.

"Tch. Now who's not letting things go?" she quipped.

Likely she'd meant to hit his foot, but Becca knocked into the table stand instead. The kick had been a light one so the table barely shifted, but they both made a grab for their cups to keep them from spilling. Steve slowly removed his hand from her cup as Becca let out a relieved breath.

"Another thing you should know about me is that I'm a walking disaster."

"Swell." He feigned a sigh. "Is it too late to back out of this friendship?"

Becca gave him a look that implied she was thinking of giving him a better-aimed kick but then held up her hands.

"If you want to go back to your sad life of going to the gym and not having someone to take you on random adventures, by all means go back and stare at the walls of your apartment."

That hit a little close to the truth. Becca might be a touch overly enthusiastic, but after meeting her he was pretty sure his apartment was going to seem very dull when he returned to it. However…

"I don't think this qualifies as an adventure," he stated.

Becca opened her mouth, then shut it with a considering expression. Steve felt a moment of triumph for stumping her and then realized how ridiculous that was.

"Okay, this is a mini adventure," Becca conceded after some thought. She pursed her lips. "But next time will be a real one."

"Is this the part where I should be excited?"

Becca's eyes sparkled with mischief. "This is the part where you should be worried."

That didn't sound concerning at all. Well, really he was more curious than anything as to what Becca had in mind. This sounded like a challenge, and he never backed down from one of those.

"You actually make friends this way?"

"You'd be surprised," said Becca with a laugh. "Tell you what, if you want, you can give me your number, and I'll text you when I've got something lined up."

Steve had a cell phone and he even sort of knew how to use it, but there hadn't been any excuse to send a text. He watched Becca search through her purse. He also knew that texts would not go through regular phones. She could just call him, right? Talking on the phone would make him feel more at ease than an attempt to figure out how to use texting. Maybe it would be better if he called her?

"All right." Becca held a finger poised over the cell phone. "Lay it on me."

"I'll call you."

"What?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "How are you supposed to know when I've got something lined up, silly?"

"I…" What was he supposed to tell her? "I just got a new number so don't have it all memorized yet."

Becca stared at him. It wasn't a lie, but he saw that expression flicker over her face just the same. She didn't believe him.

"Oh…" Her voice sounded slightly subdued. "Okay, yeah I can… write my number down." She dropped her cell phone back and found a pen instead.

Steve ground his back teeth, feeling guilty. This was an experience he'd shared all too often. There were bunch of girls who he'd never heard from again. Only this wasn't the same because he actually did mean to call her. Even if he hadn't, the hurt that had pierced through her eyes before she pushed it away would have made him think twice.

"I really will call," he said softly.

"I believe you," Becca answered without looking up from the napkin she was writing on, not sounding like she had faith in him at all.

"I'm a bad liar, remember?"

Becca pushed the napkin across to him. She surveyed him and gave him a cautious smile. "The worst."

That was better. Steve didn't think she completely believed him, but at least she appeared less wounded.

"I should probably get back though," she said, scooting her chair back. "I have this deadline, and I didn't mean to be out so long."

"Sure."

He swallowed the rest of his shake while he stood, not that there was much of it left. With Becca or not, he was definitely making a return trip. He took the napkin with her number and tucked it in his pants pocket, picking up his bag with his free hand. Avoiding the couple who were standing patiently near their table, he tossed his cup into the trash and made sure to get to the door before Becca so he could take it from the person waiting in line.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"You're welcome." Steve handed the door back and rapidly took a couple of steps to catch up to her. "I'll walk you back."

"That's sweet of you," she said, looking a bit puzzled. "But I'm all right."

"It's not any trouble," he assured her.

"I think I can make it. I'm a big girl. I can tie my own shoes and everything."

"You're on my way."

"No, I'm not," she laughed. "You're making that up."

Steve shrugged. She was probably right. He had no idea where Becca lived, but he felt like he should walk her home regardless.

She must have come to a decision about him because she said with assurance, "You really are going to call me, aren't you?"

"I said I would."

"I didn't believe you."

"I noticed. What made you change your mind?" he asked.

She leaned toward him and explained in a conspiratorial whisper, "No one insists on walking a girl home that they never intend to see again."

"Right." He let the silence hang for a minute. "Does this mean I can walk you back?"

She laughed again. "Is your apartment this way?" Becca gestured with her thumb down a street that was definitely not in the direction of his apartment.

"No," he admitted.

"Then, not a chance." Becca held out her right hand, and Steve shook it. "Bye, Steve."

"Bye, Becca."

Steve watched her back retreating for a couple of seconds before turning in the opposite direction. He might still be trying to catch up with this century, but he thought that in Becca maybe he'd found someone who would make him feel a little less out of place.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Thus began the great adventures of Steve and Becca. Meaning there is going to be lots of sassing. **

**So this chapter included the first Steve POV. I'm both nervous and excited to be working with the perspective of an established character. My experience lies more in the realm of OCs, but I think that it is going to be important (and fun) to have both of their POVS. Expect to get a peek into both of their heads during every chapter from here on out. **

**Finally, thanks for the support! The next chapter should be up before Christmas. **


	3. A Real Adventure

Trying to decide when he should call Becca was turning out to be more of a problem than he'd thought. Steve knew that the very next day was out. She had told him that she needed to "get something lined up." That took time, although how much time he had no idea because he hadn't any guess as to what that "something" might be. It really would have been easier if he gave her his number, but it was too late for that.

The longer he waited to call Becca, however, the more likely she was to think he never meant to pick up the phone. Surely she wouldn't be that broken up about it, but he remembered the way she looked at him for a split second, hurt and disappointed. Yeah, he wasn't going to be responsible for that. So when he was at "his" apartment, or a park, coffee shop, museum, anywhere that got him out of his apartment, he always found his thoughts would eventually come back to Becca because that was the most immediate situation that he felt like he could deal with.

After four days of going around in circles, he figured that he might as well call her now because over thinking this was getting him nowhere.

Steve picked up the phone, glanced over the napkin with her number which had been waiting for him right next to the phone since he placed it there on Friday, and punched in the numbers. It took three rings before she picked up.

"_Hello?"_

"Hi, Becca. It's Steve."

"_Oh, hi! Just give me one sec."_ A scraping sound came through followed by some muffled thuds and a not-so-muffled thud. _"Sorry, my roommate is watching Netflix, and I didn't want to bother her. So – ready for a real adventure?"_

He was ready for just about anything that wasn't quite so… slow.

"Yes, ma'am."

"_Great, then I've got an idea. How's your Thursday look?" _

"Same as everyone's. I think they said sunny."

Becca laughed, her voice accompanied by a clicking noise he recognized as computer keys.

"_Does… two-thirty work for you?"_

"Yeah."

"_Okay, cool." _More clicking. _"Is this a number I can text you at in case anything happens?" _

And this was why he memorized both numbers. "Uh, no. That's seven-one-eight six –"

"_Hold on a sec…. Okay, now go." _

Steve reeled off his phone number while Becca murmured back the numbers.

"_Got it. So you are going to meet me at two-thirty at the Bethesda Terrace in Central Park_."

"Do I get to know what we're doing?" he asked. That wasn't the place he thought Becca would choose. Not that he even knew half this city anymore.

"_Nope. It's a surprise, so no looking things up because that's cheating. Promise?" _

What had they put in Central Park that counted as an adventure?

"I promise."

"_Good, then I'll meet you by the fountain. Oh and wear good walking shoes. Possibly jogging shoes. There may be some jogging involved towards the end. Or running." _

Now he had even less of an idea about what they were going to be doing.

"Any chance of getting a hint?" he questioned.

Steve could hear the grin in her voice as she said, _"Bye, Steve," _and hung up. He lowered the phone from his ear, considering if taking another walk around Central Park was considered "cheating."

* * *

The screaming kid who had been sitting on the edge of the fountain finally got up and left, clutched firmly in her mother's hand. Becca let out a long sigh and rubbed her ringing ears. Another few seconds and she would have moved, although she wasn't sure where since the entire fountain was surrounded by people. She'd already almost lost her spot when a group of tourists asked her to take their picture. She had anticipated that avoiding the weekend would make things less busy, but apparently not. At least it wasn't the height of tourist season.

Becca leaned back, the edge of her vision filled by the wings of the angel statue in the middle of the fountain while the rest was blue sky. It was a gorgeous day for mid-spring, which was fortunate or her plans would have been totally ruined. She pulled up her legs, resting her sneakers on the edge of the fountain. Hopefully, Steve thought she picked a good adventure. She thought they should start small, and Kellyn had given her this idea with the assurance that they'd have a lot of fun.

"You're early."

Becca jumped causing one hand to slip and nearly land in the water. Steve reached out in case she fell, but she righted herself without that embarrassment.

"And you crept up on me," she accused, getting to her feet to avoid any other mishaps.

"Well, this may come as a surprise to you." He waved in the direction she'd been looking, which was up at the sky. "But I can't actually fly."

"And I had such hopes for you," Becca sighed, but then clapped her hands and rubbed them together making for the Terrace steps. "So. Got any guesses as to what we're doing?"

"No. I took a look around but –"

"You looked stuff up?!"

"No. I took a walk," he corrected. "And it didn't help."

Becca huffed. "You are aware that's cheating right?"

"You didn't say that was cheating."

"Yeah, well, it's not on the Terrace anyway," said Becca. "The Terrace was a diversion, and you fell for it. So there."

"I think you're taking this a little seriously," Steve teased.

"Oh, you have no idea. I hope you have a competitive streak by the way, because we are going to win this."

Steve looked at her curiously, so Becca pointed to a kiosk further up the path. The boards of the kiosk were a blinding white, painted over with "Secret City Puzzles and Games" in green lettering. A middle-aged man stood in the center with a hat that matched the kiosk pulled low over his forehead. A name tag on his chest introduced him as "Charlie."

"Hi," Becca greeted. "I put in a pre-order. My name's Becca Stroud."

"Sure thing."

Charlie bent down and pulled out a manila envelope. The front had Becca's name printed on it along with "Scavenger Hunt – Park – Adult – One Hour." He set it in front of them.

"You folks done this before?" Charlie asked. Both Becca and Steve shook their heads. "Well, all right. What you've got in here is a list with some landmarks and such. What you're going to need to do is get pictures of all of them with you two in the pictures. You get it done in an hour, and you win. Would you like a map?"

"Oh, no. We're doing this the real way," Becca asserted.

"All right," Charlie chuckled. He took out a pen to write down the time, and Becca pressed the timer on her watch, having already set it at an hour. "Good luck."

"Thank you." Becca took the envelope from him, and she and Steve moved so as not to block the kiosk.

"I haven't done one of these in a long time," Steve noted.

"Me either." She opened the envelope. "It's time to brush off the skills."

There was a plain sheet of paper inside with the list printed on it. Some of the requirements had accompanying pictures, but most of them didn't.

Alice in Wonderland

Big dog on a walk

Carousel

Couple in matching outfits

Chess pavilion

Ducks

Someone flying a kite

Horse-drawn carriages

IMAGINE

Playground slide

The list was in alphabetical order rather than ease of access, so Becca figured they should make a plan. Since Steve wasn't hurrying her off, she assumed that he agreed. For a minute they considered the list in silence.

"This is close," Steve said, pointing to the word "Carousel."

"I think 'Alice in Wonderland' is closer though. I'm pretty sure it's like…" She waved to her left.

"All right, and the carriages are down on fifty-ninth. Ducks we can find in the lake. Isn't the Chess Pavilion between those two?" Steve looked up, peering through the trees as if he could see the pavilion from here. "At least it was…"

"I… I think so? You'd probably know better than me." Becca took out a pen and numbered the items. "We can make it a loop. Go by 'IMAGINE' on the way to the Lake." She tapped the picture of the slide. "Do you know where this is?"

"No."

"Damn," Becca muttered. "I don't either. Well, the rest I guess we'll just have to find."

Steve nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Okay. You can man the list. I will take the pictures," she decided. Becca handed over the list and took out her phone.

As it turned out the Alice in Wonderland statue was only sort of in the direction Becca had remembered. It was the closest if they had taken the direct path there, but she picked the wrong path to go down so they had to backtrack. The last time she'd been here was in the fall, so she felt entitled to a hazy memory. Besides, Steve hadn't corrected her, and he'd grown up here so she couldn't feel too bad about making a mistake. This would have to be her only one though because it cost them time.

"If you're going to be in this selfie, you're going to need to bend down a little or it's just going to be me and your chest," Becca instructed while they stood in front of the Alice's bronze statue.

"In this what?" Steve asked, sounding confused.

Becca arched an eyebrow. Were there still people who didn't know the word "selfie"? She was pretty sure at this point the word had caught on, but maybe not. She supposed men were less prone to taking them.

"The picture. And come a little closer, too."

Steve moved next to her so they were nearly touching and crouched slightly. Becca held out her phone so the front camera was facing them, putting it at the right angle to get them and the statue.

"Smile," she sang, putting on a big smile herself.

With the first item checked off, they headed for the carousel. Becca kept her eyes open for the things on the list that didn't have a specific location. There were so many people out that she wasn't too worried about locating everything, only finding it all before time ran out. Between the two of them they had to be able to do it, right? She hadn't even picked the most difficult scavenger hunt.

Becca almost missed the slide because it was slate gray and carved into a hill half hidden by the rest of the playground equipment. She tapped Steve's arm and nodded to the slide.

"I think it'll be a little hard to get both of us at once, so it's probably fine if you just go," she suggested as they cut through the playground. "I'll get the picture."

"Sure," Steve agreed, folding up the list and tucking it in his jacket.

There was a line for the slide on the steps to the top, and it was comprised mostly of little kids. Becca covered her mouth and giggled to herself over how huge Steve looked standing in the middle of them. He might as well be surrounded by a litter of puppies. The girl behind him had such a confused expression, Becca half expected her to give him a tap and tell him the slide wasn't for adults.

When Steve reached the top, Becca lifted her camera and gave him a thumbs-up. She decided on video so there would be more proof than a blurry image. That, as it turned out, was a smart move because whatever the slide was built out of, it made the ride a fast one.

Steve returned to her with his neatly combed hair tousled and a boyish grin.

"You want another go, boyo?" she teased. "I can wait on the bench."

"All set. We should keep moving."

"If you're sure. You're just going to want to…" Becca ran a hand through her hair. "You're looking a little windblown."

Steve had his hair fixed when they reached the carousel. Now, Becca might have teased him about the slide, but she did love carousels even if they were meant for kids. There was a carousel near her grandparent's house that she'd always begged to visit when she was younger. Possibly a few times as an adult. This carousel wasn't quite as big, but the horses were still beautifully painted.

Steve must have read her longing look because he asked, "Do you want to go on?"

"Oh…" Becca checked her watch. They'd already taken fifteen minutes, and to wait in line and then take a ride that was at least another ten. "No, we better just take the picture."

Steve looked like he was about to argue otherwise, but merely said, "After."

"After," she agreed.

With three items down, they went to the front gates on 59th where all the carriages were lined up. That picture was easy enough because there were so many carriages, and the chess pavilion also proved no problem. Apart from all the tables for real games of chess, there was a huge chess board on the floor with giant pieces with which children could play. Of course, Becca had to insist on using that chess board. The picture ending up being them crouched in the middle of the board with two knight pieces positioned so that it appeared as if the horses were being ridden, which could only be achieved by enlisting an amused mother who volunteered to take the picture.

"Over there," Steve directed, interrupting their walk to the IMAGINE memorial.

"Oh, no way," breathed Becca.

Steve had managed to spot a couple in matching blue jogging outfits, and one of them was holding a chocolate lab on a leash. That was two requirements in one. The couple was taking a water break, so Steve and Becca hurried over before they took off.

"Hi. Sorry to bother you," said Becca, praying the couple was friendly. "But we're doing a scavenger hunt. Would you mind if we took a group picture with you guys and your dog?"

The couple glanced at each other, and both of them shrugged almost in unison.

"Sure," the man said. "Come here, Lukas."

He patted the bench, and the dog jumped up onto it. Lukas sniffed at Steve's stretched out hand and tilted his head to be scratched.

"Cute dog," Becca complimented, patting the dog's side while Steve scratched behind his ears. "But we're on a schedule, so if we could maybe all squish."

With Steve and Becca on one side of Lukas and the couple on the other, they were able to get everyone in the frame of the camera.

"Good luck," the woman offered after Becca inspected the picture to make sure it looked okay.

"Thanks," said Steve.

"Yeah, thanks," Becca added.

"How much time?" Steve questioned, continuing down the path.

Becca checked. "Twenty-five minutes."

Getting a shot of the IMAGINE memorial took longer than excepted, but it was on the ground and hard to get when there was a crowd of people around it. Steve and Becca were speed walking on their way to the lake, and Becca was beginning to feel the pressure. Thankfully, there were a whole lot of ducks right in plain sight. A family was feeding a group of the ducks, and they snagged a picture there with a bunch of them waddling around in the background.

"All we're missing is the kite," said Steve, handing Becca the list. It joined the envelope in her purse.

Becca couldn't remember seen a single kite, even when they passed one of the meadows, but maybe someone would be flying one now.

"We should check back in the meadow," she proposed.

They hurried back across the park, moving at almost a jog. Becca checked her watch as they went.

"Time?" Steve asked when she pushed her sleeve back down.

"Just over ten minutes."

At the edge of the meadow, they came to a stop. Becca surveyed the open space. There were plenty of people, but no one was flying a kite. She let out an irritated sound. They were going to lose because of one stupid kite? So not fair. If only there had been some more wind. Of all the days.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to tell them –" Becca turned and noticed Steve jogging away. She hastened after him. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"To get a kite," he answered.

"What? Where?"

Steve pointed. Her eyes darted around looking for someone holding a kite or a vendor selling them. Then, she saw the flash of bright red in one of the tall trees at the edge of the meadow. Becca squinted at it. The red shape looked a lot like a kite.

"What are you going to do? Climb up and get it?" she asked incredulously.

"Yup."

"Oh, hell no you're not. Even if you could get that bottom branch, one of those branches is bound to snap. You're not exactly tiny, you know."

"That's why you're going up."

"What?" she squeaked, darting a step away from him and nearly stumbling.

Steve glanced at her with a grin. "I'm kidding."

"Ugh, you… You're not going up that tree."

"I thought this was an adventure? Besides –" They came to a stop under the tree. "I've done this before."

Becca stared at him. "Climbed up a giant tree to a get a kite?"

"Well, not exactly." Steve ground his feet into the dirt. "You should take a step back."

The lowest branch had to be at least a foot out of his reach. Becca shook her head but backed up. One jump and he'd figure out he was not making the leap. After a moment of concentration, Steve ran forward, jumped… and grabbed the branch.

"Holy shit," she murmured. Maybe she'd overestimated how high up the branch was, but that was still quite a jump. Steve grunted as he pulled himself up. Becca circled underneath him. Even though he'd made it, he could fall out of the tree if his foot slipped or a branched cracked.

"All right Mr. Competitive, you've proved your point. You can come down now."

"It'll just take a second," he said, already reaching for the next branch.

"You know, I don't think anyone's supposed to climb the trees." When he didn't answer, Becca folded her arms. "If you fall out of this tree, you're walking yourself to the hospital," she grumbled, but continued to watch him anxiously.

As Steve scaled the branches, her stomach felt like it was growing tighter and tighter. She swallowed hard. What was she going to do if he actually did fall? It wasn't like she had strong enough arms to catch him. She was the one who suggested this scavenger hunt in the first place, and yeah she really wanted to finish it in the time allotment, but not if that meant anyone got hurt. She chewed her bottom lip.

"Got it!"

"Good job," she called. "Just be careful on your way down."

Maybe Steve thought he was being careful on his way down, but he was also moving faster, letting himself fall between branches. Any time a branch creaked, Becca winced. Finally, Steve leapt off the last branch.

Becca gasped as he landed. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Steve said like he hadn't just jumped nine feet through the air. "Come on. Let's get a picture of this."

"Oh, yeah sure," Becca muttered while Steve began running with the kite. She held up her phone, ready to take a picture. "I just jump out of trees all the time, too. No big deal."

The kite was obviously not thrilled with the gentle breeze, but Steve managed to get it up in the air long enough for Becca to snap a picture of it.

"We're good!" she yelled. "Let's go!"

Becca set off at a sprint in the direction of the kiosk, glad she had worn her sneakers. Steve ran after her with the kite clutched in his hand. At least, he started by running after her. It didn't take long for him to catch up and then pass her. He didn't get that much farther ahead though. After a few times of nearly closing the distance between them, she realized that Steve kept slowing down for her. She was holding him back. Becca made an attempt to speed up.

"How much time?" he asked having slowed down enough that they were side by side.

Becca checked her watch. "Three minutes," she panted. And her lungs were burning, her sides were twinging, and her calves were protesting. "You go." She thrust her phone out towards him. "I'll…" She took a gulp of air. "…catch up."

Steve shook his head. "We're doing this together."

"Then we're not gonna make it." That was almost a relief at this point because while it meant they had nearly won, which sucked because they were so close, she could slow down and catch her breath. Possibly she could collapse on the ground.

"Yes we are," Steve insisted with a determined expression.

Becca groaned. "Not unless you're going to carry me the rest of-" She cut off on a squeal as Steve scooped her up.

Instinctively, Becca threw her arms around his neck, but quickly realized that, apart from bouncing every time Steve took a step, she felt pretty secure. This guy had some serious muscle. Sure, she knew that from him being able to climb up that tree, but she wasn't the lightest girl out there and he was running to boot. It was kinda hot. Then, she noticed how fast they were moving.

"Are you a freakin' Olympian in your spare time?" she asked. Steve didn't answer. He was probably concentrating on not running into anyone as they hurtled down the path.

Jesus. She'd had no idea exactly how much she'd been holding him back. It seemed like every time she trying to focus on someone, they blurred and passed by. If Steve wasn't trying out for the Olympics, he should be. He had told her he was on leave from the army, but Becca was surprised they weren't inventing excuses to get him to stay. Hell, she would have.

When the kiosk was close, Steve decelerated enough to set her on the ground, and they took the last few yards at a sprint. Becca nearly slammed into the kiosk when she stopped, and Charlie gaped at her with wide eyes. She slapped her phone down on the table.

"I think we made it," she gasped. Just as she was pushing the sleeve of her sweater back, her watch beeped. "Yes! Yes!" She threw one arm around Steve and leaned into him in a brief half-hug. "This was all you, and I don't even know how you're not collapsed and panting right now." Seriously, Steve looked like he'd hardly broken a sweat, and he had the biggest grin she'd seen.

Steve shrugged. "I've carried much heavier." He lifted a hand and held above her waist for a moment, but then he dropped it as if he wasn't sure of the movement.

Becca squeezed him slightly and let go, feeling giddy. Maybe she did want to win this more than she had admitted. "This guy. Carries me all the way here because I'm slow, and still makes me feel good about myself." She realized that Charlie was continuing to stare at them. "Right, we're not crazy we swear." Becca patted down her hair, which was definitely a mess. "Just a little over excited."

At that, Charlie relaxed and laughed. "I guess so. I haven't seen anyone come to the finish line quite like that before. Let's get everything checked over, shall we?"

Becca took out the envelope and list first. With those laid out, she scrolled through the pictures on her phone. Charlie added a check mark next to every requirement on the list. When that was finished, he swept up the paper.

"Looks like it all checks out. Congratulations, you two," applauded Charlie.

He pulled out a certificate printed with gold lettering. The certificate stated that they had completed the scavenger hunt and were now "scavenger hunt champions." Becca could swear was more pumped about seeing this sheet of paper than her college diploma, and she wasn't even ashamed about it. Charlie copied over Becca's name from the envelope in neat print.

"And your name, sir?" he asked.

"Steve Rogers."

There was a pause, and Charlie glanced up from the certificate. He peered at Steve's face closely. Becca glanced at Steve, too, but she had no clue what was making Charlie look at him like that. Steve suddenly seemed tense, and Becca felt strangely like she was missing something.

"Sorry." Charlie shook his head and wrote down Steve's name. "You just looked like a guy in… well, it doesn't matter." He stamped the certificate and held it out. "You two have a good day now."

Becca took the certificate. "Thanks. You, too." She spun around, examining their names while they walked away. "That was weird, huh?" she noted once they were out of ear shot.

"Mmm."

His reply sounded so distant that it tore Becca away from the certificate. Steve turned the kite between his fingers as he walked. He'd been so happy only a minute ago. Where had that Steve gone?

"Hey." Becca touched his arm, causing him to start. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, fine."

Her eyes narrowed. "Sure?"

Steve nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okay," Becca said, deciding to drop whatever it was. However, she wanted to help him out somehow, so she held up the certificate. "You should have this."

"Oh no. Your idea, you earned it," he protested.

"But we wouldn't have gotten this if you hadn't been all macho and scaled a tree and carried me back," she countered.

"Which I only did because someone was a little slow."

"But I – hey!" Becca bumped Steve with her shoulder. His frown flatted into an attempt to contain a smile. "Rude."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll accept that apology if you take this." She waved the certificate at him. "Hang it on your fridge or something. It's basically a major award. Actually, forget the fridge. You should totally frame it, and put it right above your door." That got a chuckle, so she held the certificate aloft. "Please?"

"All right," he agreed, taking the certificate.

"You could keep it with the kite," she suggested.

"Actually, I think I'm going to leave the kite." Steve nodded over to an empty bench. "Some kid will find it, and I'm sure they'll use it much more than I will. Hang on." He headed for the bench while Becca waited.

That was sweet of him. He was sweet, funny, nice, good looking. Basically, Steve was everything she wanted in a guy. When they'd been at Black Ice, she'd been optimistic after the chance had come up to let him know that she was single. The way he sounded when he said he didn't have a girlfriend though, it sounded like someone who'd been through a rough break up or something. That tone was enough to let her know that she needed to back off, which was disappointing, but hey, she liked him too much to disappear so she'd suggested they be friends. She wasn't regretting that decision. Today had been a lot of fun. Yet, she was hoping that if they hung out for a while, maybe Steve might notice her as something more than a friend. Maybe.

Becca rubbed at a spot between her shoulder blades right along her spine. She grit her teeth as pain spiked beneath her hand. She checked to make sure Steve was focused on setting the kite on the bench so it wouldn't blow away. Sure that his back was turned to her, she pulled two medication bottles out of her purse. Damn car accident. She shook out two tablets and took them with water from the bottle she was also carrying. Everything was back in her purse by the time Steve was done.

"I'm sure you've just made some kid very happy," she stated.

"As long as it stays there. Otherwise, I'm just giving another tree the kite back."

"I'm sure the tree will be very happy, too."

They headed up the Mall, back towards the subway station. Becca couldn't wait to get into a shower and rinse off all the sweat. Plus, it'd feel good to get off her feet. She jogged for exercise, but that did not prepare her for attempting to run full tilt.

"Can I walk you back this time?"

Becca shook her head. And a gentleman, she had forgotten to add that to the list.

"Yes, now that I know you're not some creepy psycho killer, you can walk me back," she agreed.

His eyebrows rose. "That's the impression I gave you last time?"

"You can never tell," said Becca, taking his arm. "But you passed the test. Congratulations."

"Do I get a certificate for that, too? 'Not a creepy psycho killer.' I can put it up right next to this one." Steve gestured to the certificate in his hand.

"I'll work on it, and you –" She tapped his shoulder. "– can work on coming up with the next adventure."

"All right. Hey." He stopped walking. "You wanted to go on the carousel."

"Oh yeah." In all the excitement, Becca had completely forgotten. She was torn between wanting a shower and taking a ride. "That's okay. We don't have to."

Steve read right between the lines. "But you want to. Come on."

Becca considered arguing, but she also thought a ride would be a lot of fun. It wouldn't take all that long now that they weren't on the clock. She pictured him sitting on one of the horses. He was going to make it look like a pony. Becca grinned and decided she definitely had to see that.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**As this is the first chapter taking place in a real NYC location, I'd like to note that my experience in this city is limited to a day trip every other year or so. If a place in NYC is recognizable, I've done some research, but I may tweak or fabricate parts (this puzzle booth does not really exist, for example).**

**Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and Happy Holidays to the rest! See you for next week's update, and thanks for all your support. **


	4. We Can Try

Leggings or skirt with tights? Becca held out both of them, raising one and then the other as if weighing them. This would be way easier to decide if she knew where they were going. Of course, since she hadn't told Steve they were going on a scavenger hunt, he wasn't telling her where they were going now that he got to choose. All that she knew was it required him picking her up, so she assumed the place wasn't reachable by subway. Becca liked surprises, but she didn't like being underprepared for them.

She wished she had thought to ask when he called her. Well, she could still text him and ask. Actually, calling might be better. He seemed to have an aversion to texting or something along those lines.

"The skirt's cute," Ally offered, poking her head through the bedroom door.

"I know, but the leggings are probably safer," Becca countered, voicing the argument she'd been having with herself. "If it's anything like last time, at least."

Ally leaned against the doorframe and shrugged. "The skirt's still cuter. Besides, worst case scenario, you give adventure man a peek up your skirt." She winked. "Maybe he'll see something he likes."

Becca rolled her eyes. "Thanks. That doesn't sound even a little bit desperate."

That did it. She was definitely _not_ wearing the skirt. Becca tossed the leggings onto her bed and returned the skirt to its clothing hanger.

"You know, you still haven't shown me those pictures," Ally pointed out.

"Oh yeah."

Becca had promised to show Ally pictures from scavenger hunt to satisfy her roommate's curiosity, only she'd been in the middle of making dinner at the time. Flour and cell phones were not a good mix, and afterwards Becca had plain forgotten. Ally, however, was not one to let things go, especially not when it came to men.

Becca swiped her phone off of her bed and pulled up the pictures. Had that been just last week? It was so sunny and nice, while today was cool and overcast.

"Here." She pressed the phone into Ally's hand and returned to the closet to choose something to go with the leggings. Maybe a light sweater.

"Uh…wow," Ally murmured.

"I know."

"He's hot."

"I know."

"I mean, you said he was hot, but I was thinking medium hot not, like…" Ally flipped through a few of the pictures. "Super mega hot. You should take the skirt back out because this –" She waved the phone. "– needs to happen."

Becca pulled out a sweater that was comfortable to move in and wouldn't make her too warm. She didn't need her roommate to tell her how good looking Steve was because that only reminded her of the disappointing fact that he was not currently interested. She tugged on the sleeve of the sweater, glancing up at the skirt. Maybe…

No. She didn't need the skirt. She could be friends without needing to push any farther. Besides, they'd only seen each other a few times. It didn't hurt to get to know someone better first. That was a mistake she'd made before.

Becca shut the closet door. And she could be just friends with someone even if that someone was an attractive guy. It wasn't fair to assume they had to take an interest. She had fun with Steve. That could be enough. For now.

"I told you. We're friends."

Ally made a disapproving noise. "Well, you'd better not just be 'friends' for long because this guy is going to get snapped up. Speaking of which, Danny is coming over in a bit so text me before you come home."

Danny was Ally's not-quite boyfriend that she'd been dating for nearly a month. Becca liked him fine, but she wrinkled up her nose in mock disgust.

"Gross. You'd better not get make out cooties all over the couch," she joked.

"Oh, and who was the one I found making out on the kitchen counter with their boyfriend?" Ally laughed.

Becca held up her hands. "At least I knew the counter was going to get cleaned. Who knows what's all over that couch?"

"Well, I tell you what's gonna be." Ally grinned suggestively. "Lots and lots of cooties."

"Ugh, yuck," said Becca with an exaggerated shudder. "Okay, get your dirty mind out. I've got to change."

Ally held out the phone for Becca to take back and left, calling, "Wear the skirt!" as the door shut behind her.

Becca ignored that advice and changed from her pajamas into the clothing she'd picked out. She put her hair up in a ponytail because the humidity that came with impending rain always made her hair puff up like an angry cat. With some hairspray, at least it looked less unruly.

The last thing Becca reached for were her meds. She didn't want a pain flare up again while she was out. Not only were the flare ups unpleasant, but she might also have to explain to Steve about the compressed and damaged nerves in her spine from the accident.

People got antsy and overprotective when it came to spinal damage of any kind. They questioned whether it was a good idea for her to do this or that. They asked if she was _sure_ she'd be okay. They gave her sympathetic looks when she had to take a pill for the pain. It drove her up a wall.

Maybe Steve would be an exception if she told him, like Ally had been. Maybe he knew someone who'd been injured in the army and knew that she'd preferred to be treated that same as he had been doing thus far. However, she would rather not take the chance, for a while at least. Being with someone who had absolutely no idea about any of this was refreshing and considerably less complicated.

She wasn't a cripple. She had to take Oxycodone to make it through the day. She had a tolerance from taking the pain medication as a kid after knee surgery, so the doctor had to continually up her dosage. But the medication was helping her manage the pain, and without them the pain was so bad she could do little more than lay on a bed.

The worst problem, in Becca's opinion, had been that when she had started taking the tablets, she hadn't wanted to do much more than that anyway. She'd felt like her brain was fogged up, and she'd lashed out, and she… she hadn't loved who she was. Knowing that she was going to need the pain meds for months, she had looked for help. What she'd found was Adderall.

Before taking an Oxy tablet out of the bottle, she habitually checked the label.

_Take 1/2 to 1 tablet every 4 to 6 hours as needed for pain. _

When was the last time she'd taken one? Becca checked her watch, but that didn't help her to remember. She didn't think it had been four hours. Well, it had to be about three hours, right? She set down the bottle and put in earrings. Probably a little more than three hours. In fact, she was almost positive it had to be about three and a half, and surely taking just one tablet a bit early couldn't be lethal. Then she wouldn't have to worry about taking another one until she got back.

Becca decided that was sound enough reasoning, so she took out a tablet from each bottle. She went to the bathroom so that she could have a glass of water to swallow with the tablet. With that taken care of, she peered at her reflection, rubbing one eyelid carefully to get rid of some smeared eyeliner. All that was left was to brush her teeth and then she'd be ready to go.

The buzzer to the apartment sounded while Becca still had a mouth full of toothpaste. She spat it quickly into the sink.

"Tell him I'll be out in a second!" she yelled down the hall.

She rinsed out her mouth, praying that Ally wasn't adding anything embarrassing to that statement. The thought spurred her to grab her purse from her bedroom at a sprint and hurry for the door, snatching her jacket off the coat rack in case it rained.

"Have fun," Ally said, her finger still resting on the intercom button.

"You too," Becca replied.

Instead of hurtling down the two flights of stairs, Becca took them at a normal pace to avoid the catastrophe of tripping. She found Steve waiting right outside the door, leaning against the railing.

"Hi," she greeted.

"Hi."

There was an amusement in this expression that immediately made her suspect that Ally had said something. Great.

"All right, you might as well tell me what she said."

Steve shrugged. "Just that you'd be right down," he stated in a tone that wsn't at all convincing.

Becca narrowed her eyes at his retreating back, but followed him down the steps and onto the sidewalk. She was going to have to give Ally a serious jab in the ribs if she'd said anything embarrassing. Her roommate was not the best at being subtle. Becca wasn't usually either, except when being candid was sure to make things very awkward.

"So do I get a hint where we're going?" Becca asked, hoping to take his mind off whatever her roommate had gone and said. Steve shook his head. "Aw, come on." She nudged him with her shoulder, certain she could weasel something out of him. "I told you we were going to be in Central Park."

Steve gave her a considering look. "All right…" Ha, she knew it. Easy as pie. "It's not in Central Park."

Not so easy after all.

"That narrows it down," Becca huffed, but then gave him a smile. "It's all right. I can be surprised. As long as it's a good adventure, I'm in."

"Well, I wouldn't be 'Adventure Man' if it wasn't."

Oh, so _that's _what Ally had said. It could have been a whole lot worse.

"I'll have you know that I had nothing to do with that nickname," she told him with a laugh.

"No?"

"No. See I suggested 'Giant-Competitive-Artistic-And-Occasionally-Sassy-Muscle-Man,' but it was shot down."

Steve chuckled. "It is kinda long." He stopped in front of a taken parking space.

This street was resident parking only, and as long as it wasn't the middle of the night there was usually one empty spot to be found somewhere for brief parking without getting a ticket. That's why Becca had been eyeing all the cars they passed waiting for him to stop.

She hadn't expected the motorcycle. Steve hadn't struck her as someone who rode motorcycles, but all she had to go off of was the stereotype of biker dudes and hunky Europeans. The motorcycle was on the thinner side with large handlebars and a single huge headlight about twice the size of Becca's fist. Her knowledge of motorcycles was next to non-existent, but she knew this one was neither a sports model nor biker gang material. If anything it was giving her James Dean vibes. Well, Steve did have the brown leather jacket to go with it. His hair was long enough, if he sort of waved it back and traded in the kakis for jeans… Except he was missing the bad boy attitude. Ah well, bad boys in real life were jerks more often than not anyway. She would take a man with a motorcycle minus the attitude no problem.

"You haven't been on a motorcycle," Steve noted as Becca continued to stare.

Becca shook her head. "Never, but I'm actually pretty excited." She wouldn't ever try to drive one herself, but she was definitely up for a ride. Only… "Um, am I gonna fit?"

The seat didn't look long enough to fit two people. She guessed that one person could fit on it comfortably with an inch or so to spare, but not much more. There was a little more of the motorcycle behind the seat, which was plain metal framing as far as she could tell, and then there was the wheel cover behind that. She was fairly sure no one was supposed to sit on the wheel cover.

Steve looked at the motorcycle like he was seeing it for the first time.

"The last one I had was… a little different," he said, sounding apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't –"

"No, it's okay." Becca looked up from the motorcycle and smiled at Steve. Although she was finding it rather funny that he hadn't even noticed the length of the seat, she decided it wouldn't be nice to make him feel bad. "Lucky for you, I'm fairly compact. Tell you what. We'll try to squish, and if that doesn't work, we'll figure something else out."

Steve touched the back of the motorcycle, thinking. "All right," he agreed after a moment.

"Awesome. And maybe next time consider if two people can fit on a bike before you buy it just 'cause the classic look makes you drool," she teased lightly.

"Yeah."

Steve got on the motorcycle first, putting up the kickstand. As Becca had predicted, there wasn't enough room left on the seat for her to sit. He scooted forward some, but since the metal in front of the seat slanted up at a sharp angle, he could only create a smidge of extra room. Nonetheless, Becca got on behind him, hopping precariously on one foot as she swung her leg over before perching on the back of the seat. She wriggled as close to Steve as she could, pressing up against his back.

"You all right?" Steve asked when she stopped moving.

"Well, I don't feel like I'm going to fall off, so that's good." Of course, she wasn't exactly comfortable. There was an edge between the leather seat and metal plate behind it that was jutting out and pressing against her butt. However, as long as the ride wasn't super long, she thought she'd be okay. Becca checked behind her. "And I'm not sitting on the cover over the wheels."

"Also good."

"Yes." Becca shifted slightly and decided this was as good as it was going to get. "What do you want me to do with my feet?"

"Uh…" He looked down at the footrests, of which there were only two, made of narrow, cylindrical metal.

Becca lifted a foot experimentally. She knew he had to be able to take his feet off the footrests when they stopped, so she placed the tip of her shoe close to the rest of the motorcycle. That would allow him to rest on the outer part of the footrests and take his feet off when they came to a stop. If she kept her foot pivoted at an upwards angle and with the metal holding her foot up right beneath her toes, she wasn't taking up too much space. Plus, she didn't feel like her foot was going to slip.

"That," Steve said. "That's fine."

Becca set her other foot in the same manner, pleased that she had figured this out. She wrapped her arms above Steve's waist to keep herself in place, keeping her head turned to the left because otherwise it would have to be jammed right into his back. This wasn't so bad.

"Okay, I'm ready if you are," she stated.

When the motorcycle rumbled, the vibrations running up her body, her stomach twisted both in nerves and exhilaration. First time on a motorcycle. She really hoped that Steve knew what he was doing, and her being on back wasn't going to throw him off. If she got into another accident, she was going to be seriously put out. Oh god, maybe this wasn't the best idea.

"Let me know if you need me to stop," Steve told her.

"Okay."

Steve picked up his feet, and the motorcycle rolled forward. Becca instinctively tightened her hold around him, feeling momentarily unbalanced. Once they started moving down the street at a steady pace, however, nerves were giving away to adrenaline, and she forgot all about why this would be a bad idea. A grin crept over her lips.

"How're you feeling?" Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder at her when they came to a red light at the end of the street.

How was she feeling when on a motorcycle with a hot guy in a leather jacket? "Like a badass."

"That's… good," Steve said, although he didn't look totally certain.

"Are we gonna be hitting the highway?"

"For little while."

"Good. Let's open this baby up." At least, she was pretty sure that was the phrase for going really fast.

Whether that was correct or not, Steve grinned. "Hold on."

The light turned green and, having no cars immediately in front of him, he gunned the motorcycle around a turn. Becca gasped as they tilted, burying her head against his shoulder and clinging to him as her stomach attempted to take a flying leapt through her chest. As soon as they straightened, she lifted her head.

"I meant on the highway, you jerk," she chided. Yet, as the words came out of her mouth, she knew that she wanted to do that all over again.

Steve must have seen that when he caught her expression in the rearview mirrors because all he said was, "Did you? I must have missed that over the sound of me 'opening this baby up.'"

Since he was driving, Becca resisted the urge poke him. "Oh, hush up, and let's do it again."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

The drive took about thirty minutes once they were out of New York City. It should have taken longer, but since Steve hadn't yet driven far enough to escape the traffic, he took the chance to put on some speed. Besides, from the few glimpses he got when her head wasn't tucked behind his back, Becca really lit up when he pressed the throttle and they went racing by a few cars. He thought he'd made a mistake when she first stared at his motorcycle with her expression unusually blank, but if she was at all nervous in the beginning, she clearly wasn't anymore.

They were a ways north of the city when he finally pulled off of the highway, navigating through a series of smaller streets to reach Mt. Chambers. He turned into the parking lot and in the second after he turned off his motorcycle, he just looked.

When he'd been trying to decide where to go, somewhere Becca would be impressed with or at least like, Steve spent a long while staring at a computer unsure of what to search for. Knowing that she liked ice cream and games wasn't a whole lot to go off, and he didn't feel caught up enough to try and connect those interests with something modern.

Steve had thought of a few places as he stared at the computer, but they were places he was sure wouldn't exist anymore. He could have found out, but walking around the city was enough to tell him that too much had changed. Each building replaced with metal and shining lights gave him a brief sinking feeling. Places that were connected with specific memories or people he'd known, those Steve avoided outright. S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him a box of files, but while the box had been opened, the files were still untouched. He hadn't felt ready to know if his friends were dead or if the building he'd grown up in was gone. He also knew that he had to start sometime because he might never be ready.

This was a chance. He'd picked the mountain because it was something he assumed wouldn't have changed much and it was a place connected with only a single memory. When he was a kid, he came here for a picnic with his mother. Since he'd already dealt with losing Ma, coming back wouldn't feel like losing her all over again.

Yet, as Steve surveyed the area, he took in the larger parking lot, the cement where there had once been dirt, the glinting cars, the metal picnic tables, and the tall fence that had been put up by the entrance. It was all different. He got that sinking feeling like someone was pressing against his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Okay, obviously you like the motorcycle, and I have to say I can't blame you, but since we drove all this way maybe we should take a look around?"

Of course, another reason to come today was that Becca's enthusiasm and good-natured ribbing wasn't going to allow him wallow in much of anything for long. She may be a little erratic at times, but he could use the distraction.

Steve got off the motorcycle, having been so caught up that he hadn't even noticed when Becca slipped off. Becca was looking eagerly to the fence, leaning forward like a dog straining at an invisible leash. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose flushed pink from the ride despite him blocking most of the wind.

"All right. Let's go," Steve said.

At least the mountain couldn't be that different, and he was strong enough this time to do some hiking. Although his mother had wanted to take him places outside of the city once and a while, she was always strict due to his long list of health problems. That hadn't stopped him from wanting to try things though, which was why as they neared the path to go up the mountain, Steve stopped.

"What?" Becca asked.

"The path is in the wrong place."

Steve had spent a lot of that picnic, sneaking glances at the other kids heading up the mountain with their families. Assuming they hadn't moved the picnic area, parking lot, and the street, which was possible but unlikely, then it was the path that had been moved.

"Um…" Becca pursed her lips skeptically. "This path looks pretty worn. I don't think they generally move them."

The path might be open and well traveled, but it was on the wrong side of all the picnic benches and parking lot. He crossed along the edge of the picnic area.

"The last time I was here was a long time ago," he explained.

"Long enough for them to move a path?"

"Yeah."

Plants had overgrown the space between the trees, but since Steve knew the path had been there, he was able to pick it out. The ground was too even to have been untouched. He pointed to it.

"See?"

Becca tipped her head. "Oh yeah. Huh." She pulled out her cell phone. "I wonder why they moved it."

"Let's find out," Steve suggested.

"Woah there tiger," said Becca even as she followed him towards the path. "I'm all for trying new things, but this could actually be dangerous."

"They'd warn people if it was," he pointed out. There were warning signs and labels everywhere for things now. If there ever had been any danger, it was probably past. "And I thought you wanted an adventure?"

"I see we've resorted to using my own words against me…" Becca sighed. "Smart. Of course, going into the woods alone with a man you've only recently met is Dangerous Things You Should Avoid 101."

While Steve felt as though this was the path he needed to take, he also didn't want Becca feel uncomfortable. She might just be ragging, but in case she wasn't, he should say something.

"We can take the main path," he offered.

Becca studied him, then flung up her hands. "I don't know what it is, but I trust you. Come on. Let's venture into the great wild."

Steve laughed. A small mountain was hardly the "great wild," but at least Becca was keen on taking this path. It might join up with the other path further along, but there was no harm in trying.

"You really don't get out of the city much, do you?" he asked.

"Well, I'm currently lacking in the automobile department," Becca explained, once again focused on her phone. "I visit the family once or twice a year, but it's pretty much all NYC all the time. As much as I love it, sometimes I forget nature isn't dotted with skyscrapers and pigeons."

Not that he would let it happen, but Becca was either going to stumble over a rock or run right into a tree if she wasn't paying attention.

"It doesn't have cell phones either," he stated.

"Tch. It does when I'm getting service, even if it is only a bar." Becca flicked her gaze up for a second to check in front of her. "I was just curious if there was anything online about the path being moved."

Steve tensed, nervous that if there was something online, it was going to been from a year that made Becca question why he knew about this old path at all. He meant to start facing old memories, not tell someone that he'd been out of commission for sixty-seven years. He was going to tell her eventually, if she didn't figure it out on her own first, but this was not the time or place. Maybe she'd take it well, but he wasn't taking the risk of losing the one friend he had today.

"Well, there was a rock slide in fifty-eight when a cliff face broke off," relayed Becca before Steve could think of anything to say. "But that looks like about the only interesting thing to have happened, so who knows?" She put the phone back in her purse. "It could be anything."

Relief eased away Steve's nerves. She wasn't going to look into it any further.

"Yeah."

They continued up the path, avoiding any large plants that had grown over what had once been beaten down dirt. With the height of some of the plants, Steve thought Becca might wonder, but she didn't say a thing. She seemed too caught up in gazing around through all the trees and making sure to hop onto every tree root that was even remotely in their way to take much notice. For his part, Steve was enjoying being somewhere that didn't feel new or hectic, while also keeping an eye out anything that would cause them to have to turn around.

"Maybe there was a den of mountain lions up here," Becca voiced after some time, peeling off her jacket and tying it around her waist.

Steve lifted a low-hanging branch so they could both duck under it. "I think mountain lions prefer bigger mountains."

"Okay, Bigfoot then."

"What?"

"Maybe Bigfoot lives up here, and they closed it off so people wouldn't find out." Steve was still trying to work out if Bigfoot was a person or an animal when Becca snapped her fingers. "I've got it. It's like _The Descent_. Have you seen that movie?"

Hoping that he wasn't digging a hole for himself, Steve answered, "No."

"Well, I'd recommend it, but anyway, in _The Descent_ there's a group of women who go spelunking in this huge cave system and get trapped," Becca explained. "Most of them get eaten by these creepy humanoid creatures that live in the caves, but there is an exit that's on a mountain. Maybe it's based on this mountain right here."

The smile she flashed him was just on the verge of hopeful. Steve almost doubted whether she'd ever been worried that this path might be dangerous. Also, he was going to remember to check on what any movie she suggested was about before he watched it.

"Well, there goes the next trip I had planned," he commented causing Becca to giggle.

"Not so fast now. You're definitely stronger and can run faster. You could probably take a bunch of those things out and make it," Becca mused. She leapt up onto a tree root, following it to the trunk.

"What about you?"

Becca looked at him like he'd asked a ridiculous question. "I'm going to tease them to death, obviously."

Steve imagined Becca in the middle of a cave with a smile on her face teasing a figure with big fangs crouched uncertainly in front of her. He shook his head.

"And if that doesn't work?" he laughed.

Becca shrugged. "Um… hit 'em with a rock?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They had to step off the path as a dense thicket of brambles had crept up over the ground. Since the end wasn't even out of his sightline, Steve was sure they could quickly get around it. However, there was a lot of gray through the trees up ahead that reminded him of the broken cliff Becca had mentioned.

"Hey, speaking of rocks…" Becca commented, letting the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

"I see it," said Steve.

It was the rock slide from that cliff that had caused the path to be cut off. At least, that's what Steve concluded as he surveyed the massive breadth of jagged rocks piled across the mountainside. A few of the fallen trees were rotting on the ground, half buried under boulders.

Becca perched on the flat surface of one of the rocks, letting out a breath that sounded closer to a pant. She took out a bottle of water and, after a gulp, held it out to him.

"I'm all right. Thanks."

A split second assessment of the area told Steve that they weren't going to make it over this. Even if he could figure out a way, it wasn't likely to be a method Becca could follow. He should have stuck to the main path.

"Looks like a dead end," he noted. "Sorry I made you walk all this way."

Becca lowered the bottle with a frown. "What? We're going to give up already? We just got here."

"They did move the path for a reason."

"Tch." Becca nodded over the mass of rocks. "Look around. There might be something."

To humor her, Steve peered up at the cliff, attempting to figure out a way up. The crevasses in the cliff face above him were too small for handholds. Even if they weren't, he had to get Becca up, too. He didn't think much of his chances of convincing her that he could carry her up on his back.

"How do you feel about scaling a cliff?" he invited anyway.

Becca gave him a look that made it clear she didn't think he was trying. "Next option, please."

Steve walked away along the jumble of rocks. Further along the cliff had shorn away a chunk of the mountainside, creating a sharp drop. No way around on this end.

"I might be able to throw you up if you think you can catch the edge," he joked.

"Then, how are you getting up?"

Steve craned his neck to look at the closest trees.

"If you're thinking about climbing those and jumping, forget it," Becca called to him. "This is not an awkward teen movie, and we're not doing it."

"Where's that trust you were talking about?" he replied, although he had no intention of following through.

"I hit it with a shovel and am burying it beneath a layer of sanity."

Steve moved back over to where Becca was waiting. She'd pushed her sweater up to her elbows and had her legs lifted to stretch down to her toes. Her skin was tinged a warm pink with sweat beading her hairline. He should have at least let her know that today was going to involve a lot of walking. He just hadn't thought the path would be quite so steep, and she'd seemed to like the idea of keeping things a surprise. If Becca had needed a break, he thought she would ask. She'd been vocal about so much else. He should have known better. How many times had he pushed himself to do things he physically shouldn't?

"I really don't think there's a way around," Steve said. It was more important to get her back down than determine how to make it the rest of the way up.

Becca lifted her arm, pointing in the direction he'd yet to check. "What about over there?"

"If there was a way over there, then they just would have moved the path there instead," he reasoned.

Becca narrowed her eyes at him. "We're checking." She hopped off the rock, striding towards the line of trees with determination.

"Becca, wait." Steve hurriedly caught up and stepped in front of her. "I think–"

"Steve," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "You're a nice guy, and I like hanging out with you."

"Okay…" Steve said as she took a deep breath, unsure of what was coming next. "Thanks."

She nodded once. "But if I walked all the way up here in a sweater and flats and don't reach the top, I might freak out."

Steve wasn't exactly sure what "freak out" meant, but he was sure from her tone that it wasn't good. Even though he didn't want to upset her, he also didn't want her collapsing.

"We'll check," he conceded. "If you promise to tell me when you need a break."

"I…" Becca lifted her chin, and Steve could read in her expression that she was ready to argue. He wasn't going to back down though. She stared at him hard, her nose wrinkling like a rabbit's. Then, all at once, she let out a sigh and her face softened. "Okay. That's fair."

The reason for not making a new path that cut around was the sheer steepness of the slope on the other side of the cliff. The climb wasn't impossible, but it wouldn't be for kids and their anxious parents or the average hiker.

"If we sort of go diagonally between the trees, we should be able to make it," Becca proposed.

There were a bunch of trees dotting the slope, thin, but strong enough to hold on to. If she needed a break, Becca could rest on one of those. Even so, he considered arguing the point.

"We can try," she pressed.

Steve looked at her, and she gave him an encouraging smile. She really did have a very pretty smile. What convinced him though was the resolute caste of her eyes.

"We can try," he agreed. And he would pick Becca up and carry her back down the mountain with her yelling at him all the way if he thought she was pushing herself too much.

The dirt on the slope was loose, and Steve had to dig in his heels and angle his feet to keep from sliding. Becca was faring worse, and he had the impression that her shoes were the reason since they didn't look too sturdy. They progressed slowly as he was lagging in case Becca needed help. She moved with assurance between the trees despite the unsound footing, resting a few seconds at each one, most likely to show him that she was willing to take small breaks.

About two-thirds of the way up, Becca lost her traction and skidded a couple of inches. It would have been more if Steve hadn't reached out and grabbed her hand. He guided her over to a tree, which she leaned against, breathing hard.

"Maybe we should go back down," he suggested.

Becca shook her head. "We're almost there."

"Why does this matter so much to you?"

"Well, didn't going up this path matter to you?" she replied, but there was something in the way she said those words that made Steve think she was deflecting the question.

"Why does it matter?" he asked again.

Becca stared down at her feet, biting on the corner her lip. Her hands balled up into fists. Steve had strayed onto something and because he didn't know what it was, he didn't know if he had any right to push her. Maybe he already had. He was about to put a comforting hand on her shoulder when she spoke.

"Because I know I can do it," Becca said in a quiet voice. She lifted her head to peer up at him pleadingly. "I _know_ I can."

Whatever was happening, whatever it was that was getting to her, how could he say no to that?

"I believe you."

This time, Steve made sure Becca was moving first so that he could be behind her in case anything happened. Fortunately, they made it the rest of the way up without too many stumbles, finally coming to more even ground.

Becca plopped down straight away, facing the route they'd taken, and took several slow breaths. Steve sat beside her.

"You okay?" he questioned.

"Yeah. Yeah." Becca ran a hand over her forehead and tucked a strand of hair that was stuck to her cheek back behind her ear. "I'm sorry about that. I just got…" She shrugged a shoulder with an apologetic grimace. "You know."

Steve didn't know, but taking that as a sign that she didn't want to talk about it, he said, "Sure."

They sat in silence for a minute, until Becca nudge him with her shoulder.

"Told you we'd find a way if we checked," she said with a grin.

Relieved for her smile, he returned it. "I don't think that's exactly what you said."

"Sure it is. Now go check over there, and you'll probably pick up the path again." She waved behind them.

Instead of protesting, Steve got up and went to look around and see if he could spot the path, all the while wondering what Becca didn't want to bring up. Unless she said something, he would keep his mouth shut, but he was curious what could make her that desperate. Steve resolved to put those thoughts out of his mind when he found traces of the path leading through a grove of small trees further along, near the cliff. Let her talk when she was ready.

"Over here," he called.

Becca got to her feet, shoving something back into her purse. It was probably her water bottle. Hopefully she had enough left to drink for the way down. That walk would, at least, be easier.

They had followed the path for another ten minutes when they began to hear voices. Another five minutes had them spilling out onto the new path with the other hikers. Not long after that, they reached the top.

"This… this is worth it," stated Becca as she surveyed the green trees below them. "You did good."

Some of the clouds had broken, leaving streams of sunlight that hit the stretches of woods. There was a town amongst the trees, but it was far enough off in the distance that the view was almost uninterrupted.

It was a nice view, and standing here Steve felt a little better than he had in a while. Until Becca groaned.

"What's wrong?" he asked with alarm.

Becca heaved out a sigh. "I'm gonna have to find somewhere even better for the next adventure."

Steve grinned. "Good luck."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**First chapter of 2015! Welcome to the new year everyone. I'd say my resolution is to exercise more, but why do it myself when I can have fictional characters do it for me? That counts right? No? Oh well. **

**For anyone staring at a picture of the motorcycle Steve has in _Avengers_, shhhh. Yes, there is no way Becca would fit on the back of that motorcycle, but I've just fudged with it a bit.**

**On a side note, I'd recommend _The Descent _to any horror movie fan. Horror is my favorite genre, and this movie makes my top five. Do make sure you get the original British version and not the American cut though because, for some reason, they changed the ending when they released it in the US and it's quite lame. **

**Thanks for the continued support. Becca and I shall have to come up with something good for the next adventure. **


	5. Shield Me

The knock on the apartment's front door came while Steve was finishing up dinner. Since there were very few people who knew where he was, Steve had a pretty good idea who was knocking.

Steve set down his fork and went answer the door. Nick Fury was waiting on the other side, mouth set in a grim line.

"Captain Rogers."

The last time Nick had called on him their conversation had escalated into an argument that ended with concessions made on both sides.

When Steve had first woken up, there'd been so much to take in that he'd been completely overwhelmed. Nick had explained about the serum and the ice, about the end of the War, about the creation of S.H.I.E.L.D. to protect the world from potential threats. He offered a place to stay and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to help get Steve adjusted and up to speed.

That was fine. Steve didn't know where he would have stayed otherwise. One sweep of Times Square had been enough to tell him that he'd lost his home. Having agents show him how to work things like modern telephones and the internet was helpful, insuring that he could take steps that would have taken longer on his own time. For days, Steve had stayed in the apartment they had give him, as Nick had suggested, acclimating to the idea that the world as he knew it was gone, building up enough courage to watch the news or read the internet, and trying to decide what he was going to do from here on out.

He didn't know how S.H.I.E.L.D. found out that he decided to go for a walk around the block, but within hours of returning to the apartment, Nick was at his door. The world wasn't ready to know that Captain America was back, Nick had said. Every time Steve went outside, he risked being recognized. If he was getting tired of the apartment, there were secure locations Steve could visit or maybe he would like to take on a mission with a small team of select agents. Steve had protested that a walk wasn't going to blow his cover. As far as the world was concerned, Captain America died a long time ago. And how was he supposed to get "adjusted" to this century if he couldn't go out and see it for himself?

A tense forty minutes later, they had reached an agreement. Steve could go out whenever he wanted with two stipulations. He was to avoid places that he was most likely to be recognized such as his old neighborhood or any memorial connected with the War. He was also to prevent regular, prolonged interactions that were likely to end up disclosing his past. As a show of good faith, he'd been given the motorcycle.

Steve hadn't thought that either of those conditions would turn out to be difficult. The places he felt connected to were the ones he hadn't been ready to face. As to talking to people regularly, well, who was there to talk to that he even saw often enough?

Then, not even a week later, Becca happened. He couldn't even think of it as meeting her because she had come up like an unexpected gust of wind that was pulling him along for the ride.

All right, maybe he had a little more choice than that. Sure, he could have said no when she invited him to get ice cream, but he thought it would be a welcome distraction. Becca wasn't connected to his past in any way, and showed absolutely no signs of attempting to find out much that was personal. He could have left it at that, never giving her a call back, but she had offered to be a friend. S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to want to be friends in the sense that they wanted Steve on their side. However, he wasn't wholly convinced that he could trust them yet. Becca, he could trust. Becca made everything feel… normal. So he called.

Steve was surprised it had taken so long after that call for Nick to come remind him of the agreement they'd made. At least, that's what he assumed this visit was about. He'd half-expected to find Nick waiting outside the apartment when he'd returned from the hike back on Saturday.

"Look, I know we had an agreement," Steve began, moving out of the way so Nick could come in.

"Oh, so you did remember?" Nick slipped past, and Steve shut the door. "And here I'd thought it just slipped your mind."

Steve sighed and gestured for Nick to take a seat on the chair he was already standing next to. Nick took the chair, and Steve sat across from him on the couch.

"She doesn't know who I am."

"She will." Nick leaned forward. "I thought you understood. Information is a lot easier to get these days."

"We already went over this," Steve pointed out, not wanting to go through that particular argument all over again. "No one knows I'm alive."

"Yet. One day she's going to stumble across something about America's first superhero and wonder why the Steve Rogers she knows looks exactly like the one who's Captain America. In my experience, those kinds of things happen a lot earlier than we expect them to."

"When it happens, I'll talk to her."

Nick threaded his fingers together, resting them under his chin. "What makes you think she isn't going to be asking her friends for their opinion first?"

He wasn't wrong. Becca could talk to someone else. If she still had those pictures from the park then that was some pretty good evidence. Even so, he thought most people would chalk it up to coincidence. When she asked him about it, then that was going to be something different.

"I don't think they'll believe her."

"And if she asks you?" Nick questioned.

"Then I'll tell her," Steve stated, folding his arms. "She'll know eventually. I'd rather she heard it from me."

"If you're going to tell her, why wait?"

Steve knew what Nick was doing. He wanted Steve to admit that her knowing was a bad idea, that she might walk away and tell everyone. She might, but she might not. Steve wanted to believe that if he asked her to keep a secret, she would, but her impulsivity made him hesitant. Nor did he want to lose his one friend just because of who he was.

"She won't find out. Not until the right time."

"And when is that?" Nick asked, leaning back against the chair.

"When I say it is."

Steve had the fleeting hope that this was the end of the argument, despite Nick giving him a long, hard look.

"You're really going to compromise all the steps we've taken over one woman?"

Steve gritted his teeth. "Her name is Becca, and even if knowing her was compromising anything it should be my choice."

There was another pause in which Nick seemed to be attempting to bore a hole through Steve with his eye, but Steve wasn't going to back down. Finally, Nick reached into his coat. He pulled out a thin file and tilted it so the front was readable. There were a variety of numbers that didn't mean a thing to Steve, but then there was the name "Rebecca M. Stroud" typed in bold print.

"If you're going to continue seeing this woman, which is a decision I strongly advise against, there are some things you should know about her," Nick stated, placing the file on the table beside him.

"No," said Steve immediately.

Nick's eyebrows rose. "No?"

"No."

Becca wasn't trying to pry into his life. Steve had no right to pry into hers. That would be breaking the trust that she put in him. Maybe she had secrets that S.H.I.E.L.D. had dug up, but Steve didn't want to hear about them from anyone but her. That was only fair.

"Listen." Nick picked up the file again and opened it. "She has –"

"With all due respect, sir," Steve interrupted. "I don't think it's your place to tell me anything about Becca, and I don't want to know any more than what she's willing to tell me."

Nick had stopped flipping through the pages. "This is a lot of trust for a woman you just met."

"I just met you, too," Steve reminded him. "Aren't you expecting me to trust you?"

Nick sighed, a noise accompanied by a creak of the chair as he shifted.

"I'm trying to help you, Cap."

It sounded like he was, but this was the kind of help that Steve would rather not take.

"I understand that, but, like I said, this is my decision."

Nick was silent, but his expression was not pleased. At last, he snapped the file shut.

"Fine. Learn your lesson the hard way."

Nick placed the file on the table, less gently, and got to his feet. Steve stood as well.

"At least pay attention to the speed limits next time," Nick requested. "There are less noticeable ways of impressing a woman."

"I wasn't trying to impress her."

"Uh huh." He tapped the file with a finger. "Think about it."

Steve shook his head. "Take it with you. I won't need it."

Nick ignored him and crossed the room. "We'll be keeping an eye out."

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to use two."

Nick gave him a thin smile. "I hope she's worth it, Cap," he said and left.

This argument had been a lot shorter than the last one, but Steve felt like he'd gained slightly more control over his life. The day was going to come when Becca and the rest of the world, with any luck in that order, would know that he was Captain America, but he still had time to prepare for that. The least he hoped for was that Becca would stick around, so someone would know that he was Steve Rogers, too.

Steve crossed over to the file Nick had left. There had to be something in it that Nick thought was worth mentioning, but while Steve felt a brief flash of curiosity, he wasn't going to open it. He would have thrown the whole thing in the trash, but there could be all kinds of information in the papers. Instead, he took out the box of untouched S.H.I.E.L.D. files and added one more to the pile. When Becca thought he should know, he'd know.

* * *

Becca awoke to a sharp pain at the base of her neck, a feeling like hot fire poker was jabbing up underneath her skin. She groaned, dragging herself up onto her elbows. The alarm clock displayed "5:17" in bright red, and that was going to be the only visible thing in the dark bedroom until her eyes adjusted.

Becca groped above the clock for the switch on her lamp. Her trembling fingers found the switch, and she winced in the sudden brightness. Blinking furiously, she reached for the single tablet of Oxy that she left out as this inevitably occurred once every night. In her haste, she knocked the tablet onto the floor.

"Shit," she whimpered.

Moving carefully, Becca shifted to the edge of the bed. At least the tablet hadn't rolled out of sight. She swiped it off the floor and sat up. She filled her mouth with water from a half-empty bottle, a motion which inevitably led to some spillage on her pajamas since her neck brace made it impossible to tilt her head back even a little, before shoving the tablet into her mouth and swallowing.

Even though it would take a bit for the meds to kick in, Becca felt relief knowing the pain would fade away. Since Oxy made her drowsy, she would also be asleep again soon. She flicked off the light and settled down on her stomach. She screwed her eyes shut, grit her teeth against the pain, and waited for everything to fade.

* * *

What pulled Becca out of sleep the second time was knocking on the front door. She rolled onto her side and ignored the sound. Ally could get it.

When the knocking didn't stop, Becca opened an eye and looked at the clock. 7:02. Ally had already left for work. Fuck. Becca shut her eye again, hoping the person would just go away. Who the fuck was at the door at seven in the morning anyway? She had no desire to get out of bed. All she wanted to do was sleep some more, but after another minute of knocking, frustration snapped inside her.

"I'll be there in a second!" she yelled. Silence. Thank Jesus.

Getting herself up was the hardest battle. Becca felt all hazy and exhausted. As much as seconds ago she wanted the knocking to stop, now that it was quiet, she didn't care anymore. Her body felt heavy, threatening to pull her back down onto the bed while she struggled to sit up. She should go back to sleep. The person would go away. Whatever they wanted, it couldn't be that important.

But that was the Oxy talking, not her. It helped with the pain, but it made her tired and miserable, too. Becca took out the bottle of Adderall and swallowed a tablet to counter that feeling. She'd be back to herself as soon as it started working.

Becca undid the neck brace and dropped it beside her. She had to wear it to bed because two of her vertebrae had fractured during the car accident around where her nerves were damaged. The bones were mostly healed, but the doctor didn't want her sleeping on them. Wearing the brace to bed was at least more tolerable than the first few weeks when she had to wear it around all the time. She'd felt like a dog with a cone over its head.

"All right. You have to get the door," she murmured to herself.

Becca swung her legs over the edge of the bed and heaved herself to her feet. She swayed unsteadily, but a deep breath returned some of the balance. She took a step forward and noticed a piece of paper on the floor in front of her closed bedroom door. She picked it up.

_We got an e-mail from the super. I guess the idiots above us forgot to close their windows during the storm and there might be some water damage. Building inspectors are coming 7 to make sure our ceiling isn't going to collapse on us. Text me if there's a problem._

_Ally _

Becca sighed in frustration. Well, that explained who was at the door. She crumpled the paper and tossed it onto her desk to be thrown away later. She shuffled to the front door, contemplating several choice words she would never actually say to the morons upstairs unless their ceiling really did collapse. It wasn't even warm out yesterday, she remembered as she reached the living room. Why did they even have their windows open? People were so damn baffling sometimes.

There were two people waiting for her, a man and a woman, both middle aged and looking annoying awake. The man had a tool box in one hand while the woman was carrying a clip board. Becca couldn't bring herself to return their small smiles.

"Hi, we're here about the possible water damage," the woman relayed.

"Yeah. Come on in," said Becca, stepping aside. "How much damage do you think there is?"

"Hopefully, none, but we'd rather check and be sure than have the ceiling collapse. That wouldn't be good for anyone." The woman looked down at her clipboard. "Now there are two of you living here?"

"Yeah, but Ally's at work."

The woman wrote something down. "So you would be Miss Stroud?"

"Mhmm."

"All right, Miss Stroud. We're going to ask you to wait outside just to be safe. Shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."

Becca sighed. "Whatever."

Becca went out into the hallway and sank down next to the door. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her face against her knees, shutting her eyes. She felt annoyed with the inspectors for kicking her out, which she knew was stupid because they were doing their jobs. If the ceiling did fall down, she would be glad to be out of the way. Really it was just the people upstairs that she should be irritated with.

By the time the inspectors were done, Becca had planned the speech she was going to give those morons upstairs if there was any damage to report. However, the speech was not meant to be as there was absolutely no damage, which was the better alternative all things considered. The inspectors got Becca's signature and then left her alone in the apartment once more.

Since there was no way she was getting work done until the Adderall took effect, Becca forced herself to eat breakfast and then curled up on her bed for another hour. Then, she finally had enough energy to outline the advertisement for women's sweaters that was due by the end of the week. She got through the outline and had come up with an eye-catching headline when she realized that she was supposed to meet Steve on the other side of the city in less than twenty minutes.

Despite flinging on some clothes as quickly as possible and sprinting to the subway station, Becca arrived late. She would have texted him if she had service underground, but he might not even had answered. She still wasn't sure what his deal was with texting. She was going to have to remember to ask sometime.

"Hi," Steve greeted her as she reached the top of the subway steps. She thought he seemed a little relieved to see her.

"Hi. I'm so sorry I'm late," Becca apologized. "I was working and lost track of time."

"That's all right. It gave me some time to try and figure out what we're doing here."

"Got a guess?"

Steve pointedly glanced around him at the non-descript buildings and mostly empty street they were walking down.

"Not a one," he confessed.

"Would you like a hint?" Becca offered.

"Sure."

Becca had been stumped over what to do for an adventure this time. As much as she loved her friends, hanging out usually meant going out for lunch or staying in and watching a movie, so she didn't have a ton of ideas. As she'd been searching around on Google, Becca had stumbled across one place that sounded super fun, wasn't that expensive, and, she was crossing her fingers, was a challenge.

"You remember that movie I told you about last time we hung out?"

"Uh…" Steve's forehead wrinkled. "The one with the caves and creatures that ate people?"

"Mhmm. Remember how I said you could probably survive?"

"You know, of all the things I thought I'd be doing today, trying to avoid getting eaten was not one of them."

Becca grinned. "Get ready to try."

Steve stopped and turned back towards the subway. "Maybe I'll-"

"Oh, no." Becca grabbed his arm and pulled him along, not that he was really resisting. "You're not leaving me to face the zombies all on my own."

"Zombies?" he asked with a laugh.

"Well, people probably dressed in raggedy clothes with fake blood, so the closest less dangerous version." Becca shrugged. "I thought if we might actually get eaten that would diminish the fun."

"And here I was excited to see an actual zombie."

"That's next time. We're working our way up remember?"

"Right."

Becca directed him over to a large warehouse. The front had been left with an intentionally run down appearance. There was a glowing sign on the front that said "The Great Z-scape." The sign was the only part that looked new, although the light behind the lettering flickered. Despite the lackluster appearance, this building had been open for going on five years. While most of their business revolved around Halloween, which Becca gathered from reviews she had read, they opened part of the building a few other times throughout the year. This had been her lucky week.

A group of teens burst through the doors, chattering loudly. The last one took a step back to hold the door, which Steve took from him so they could pass through into the lobby. It had the same aesthetic as the building's exterior, only someone had used crimson paint to smear some handprints on the walls. Two doors flanked a receptionist sitting behind a worn desk.

"Welcome to the Great Z-scape," said the receptionist, flashing a smile that was much whiter than the surrounding room. "You must be our four thirty."

"Yes. Sorry we're a little late. That's my fault," Becca apologized.

"That's all right. Our zombies are always willing to wait for a meal." The receptionist gave them a wink while fluffing her cropped hair. "Now are you paying with cash or credit?"

"Credit."

"I've got this one," Steve interjected, taking out his wallet. "You paid last time."

"But this is more than the shakes or the scavenger hunt." Really the cost was only slightly more if she combined them, but still, this place had been her idea.

"That's all right."

"Halfsies?" Becca suggested, but Steve was already holding out cash to the receptionist, who took the bills. Guess she wasn't paying then. It was nice of him to pay for her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"If I could see I.D. from you, miss," the receptionist requested, handing Steve back his change. "Just to check the name." Becca took out her driver's license, so the receptionist could glance over it. "Looks good. The last thing I'm going to need is for you to sign these forms." She set two copies of a form on the top part of the desk next to a cup full of pens. "These forms say that you agree not to touch any of our zombies. It also gives your consent to let our zombies touch you. They will do no more than give you a light tap. I promise our zombies are the gentle kind." Once the forms were signed, she took them back.

"All right you two, just a few things to go over. In a minute, I'm going to let you through that door." The receptionist pointed to a door which had been heavily splattered with the crimson paint and set with several locks. "Each room you go through is going to have a puzzle you need to solve to get to the next room. You'll only have so much time to figure out the puzzles, so you'll want to finish them as quickly as possible.

"Zombies have been broken loose all over the warehouse. If one of them grabs you, I'm afraid that's it for you. However, if your partner hasn't been taken, they can keep going if they choose. You make it out alive, you win. Any questions?" Steve and Becca shook their heads. "Okay, if you want to hang up your jackets, we'll get you started."

The receptionist got up from the desk, and they hung their jackets on a row of empty hooks before following her to the door. She made a show of undoing all the locks and opening the door with a key before gesturing them in.

"Good luck."

The door clicked shut, and Becca could hear the locks being set. She looked around the room, excited to get started. The room seemed pretty normal. There were a few cabinets, small trash bin, desk up against the wall with a swivel chair. It looked kind of like an office really. It hadn't even been splattered with paint like the lobby. This was not what she was expecting. A glance at Steve told her that this wasn't what he was expecting either.

"Check the door?" she suggested.

They crossed the room to the door on the other side. This door had a keypad, so the goal must be to figure out the code to open it.

"There's got to be a code around here somewhere."

Steve nodded. "It's probably too easy, but we should check the desk." Then, the lights went out, leaving them in pitch black. "All right, this is less easy."

"Alert. Alert." An automated voice sounded above them. "Zombies have broken from the quarantine area. Please evacuate the building. Alert."

The lights flickered back on but at a much dimmer setting. Becca smiled at Steve. Now this was more like it.

"Desk?"

"Desk," he agreed.

"Zombies approaching. You have ten minutes to escape," the automated voice informed them.

They hurried over to the desk and started opening drawers. Becca pulled out a stack of loose papers. She thumbed through them. All kinds of writing and a lot of numbers. They probably wouldn't use a long string of numbers as a code. This was a pretty good stack of paper to have to sort through. She wondered if this was supposed to be a distraction as it seemed like the first place people would look. Steve must have had the same idea because he'd tossed some sheets of paper onto the desk and was examining the drawer itself.

Becca thought the trashcan was less obvious, so she dumped its contents onto the floor. A bunch of crumpled up tissues fell out, she was sure not actually used. Pretty sure. There was also a broken pencil and some crumpled paper. One of the papers had six digits written at the top, so she rushed over to the keypad and entered them. When she yanked the door, it didn't open. Not that then.

"Zombies approaching. You have five minutes to escape."

Becca went back to sorting through the trash. Steve had moved on from the desk drawers and was feeling along the edge of the desk itself.

"You know, if we were actually being chased by zombies, it'd be real convenient to have someone telling us how close they were," Becca noted, tossing aside another useless paper.

"Yeah. It'd also be real convenient if we didn't have to solve puzzles."

"True."

Becca heard a loud snap and turned around. Steve had gone to move the chair and pulled the entire top half off of its stand. Her eyes widened.

"Did you just break that?"

"I think it was supposed to come off," he replied. "Look." Steve set down the part of the chair that he was holding and dipped two fingers into the stand. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and opened it.

"Is it the code?"

"Yup." Steve made for the door. "Let's go." He punched in the code and the lock clicked. He yanked the door open and glanced in next room before ushering Becca through.

This room had two large piles of objects in the middle of the floor. They skirted around the piles to examine the next door. Where a doorknob should have been was a hole cut in a shape with several different sized, jagged edges. They crouched next to the piles. One of the piles was comprised entirely of various doorknobs. The back of each door knob was hollowed out in a specific pattern unlike the one on the door. The other pile was short, metal bars that connected the door with to one of the doorknobs.

Finding the right metal bar was the first task. Some of the bars were obviously not the right ones, since they were rounded or had too few or too many edges. Those got placed off to the side. However, there were some that appeared close enough that Becca would get up and try to fit them in the slot.

The voice once again gave them a five minute warning.

"Nothing close?" Becca asked, since Steve hadn't moved at all while she'd gotten up four times already.

"I don't think close is what we're looking for," he murmured, head cocked as he turned a bar in his hand.

"All right, Mister Sassy. I'll let you concentrate."

Steve smiled, tossing another bar onto the discard pile. A scream sounded from somewhere in the warehouse. They both looked up, but then went back to sorting.

"Zombies approaching. You have –"

"This one." Steve held up a bar.

"– three minutes –"

"Make sure," Becca instructed.

"–to escape."

Steve got up and slid the bar into the door. Becca peered at the other end of it as he crouched next to her, then shuffled over to the pile of doorknobs.

"I am just here for moral support apparently," she muttered.

"Well, you're doing a great job at that."

Since his tone was suspiciously close to sarcasm, Becca bumped him with her elbow. "Watch it, Steve. If you're the brains of this operation, that makes me the brawn. You're going to need my superior fighting skills once the zombies arrive." She swung an arm out in front of her like she was doing a karate chop causing Steve to chuckle.

"You're right. I'm sorry." He nodded towards her outstretched arm. "Also, you're holding the door knob we need."

Becca pulled the knob back towards her, having not yet checked it. How could he tell so easily? Her eyes flicked to the bar to double check, although he hadn't even looked since he'd put the bar there.

"I knew that."

Becca fit the door knob onto the bar and twisted. The door flew open. Okay this room was her chance. She was going to figure out at least one of these rooms herself.

"Hold on," said Steve, as she was about to step into the next room.

"What?" she asked. Steve didn't answer, just leaned over her to peer around the door frame. Becca rolled her eyes. "I think we've established that zombies aren't going to jump at us unannounced."

"Then it doesn't hurt to check."

The next door they had to make it through had a piece cut out of it. The outline reminded Becca a bit of a skull. All of the white walls in the room had a few square sections, colored red, with handles. The squares had various shapes on them. Becca knew immediately that this was like those frustrating elementary school math puzzles where the teacher had given the class a bunch of blocks and a few outlines of the shapes they were supposed to make with the blocks. Only this looked harder.

"Does this seem less difficult than the last puzzle?" Steve questioned.

Oh, that made her feel great about her mental capabilities. Becca was about to answer, but then she realized that there really weren't that many squares to choose from.

"I guess a little," she conceded.

Becca looked over the squares again, circling around the room. She picked one that she was fairly sure was correct and grabbed the handle. The space was empty. Nothing but black fabric lining the back of a hole in the wall. Figured.

Then, a bloody hand shot out of the fabric accompanied by a snarl.

Becca yelped and stumbled backwards out of the reach of the fake-blood stained arm. She unexpectedly smacked into Steve's chest, as he'd come up behind her, and jumped with a squeak. The arm flailed around, accompanied by more growling and then slid back out of sight. Becca's heart was galloping. She had not been expecting that.

"Becca."

Becca let out a long, slow breath, still eyeing the empty space. "Yeah."

"You all right?"

"Yeah."

"It didn't touch you?"

"No." She tore her gaze away from the black fabric. Steve was staring down at her, somehow managing to look both concerned and amused. She gave him a tiny smile. "I eliminated that one for us. You're welcome."

"Maybe next time we both agree on which ones to open," he suggested.

"Good plan."

"Zombies approaching. You have five minutes to escape."

Steve moved around to the side of the square with the small door and gingerly shut it so the arm wouldn't come out if they needed to get close. They circled around the room together, choosing which shapes they thought would fit. There were five squares they had chosen in total. Steve valiantly offered to open each square, and since one jump scare per room was quite enough for Becca, she agreed to it. Fortunately, they'd picked all the right shapes, each square yielding a block for them to use. The door opened once they fit all of the blocks from the correct squares into the skull shape.

The next room wasn't a room at all, but a hallway. The hall had ten white doors, numbered one to ten, with clouded glass making it impossible to see behind them. A single bulb flickered above. It gave the hallway a dingy air, added to by the chips in the paint on the doors and walls.

Becca knew better than to just go pulling on doors at this point, but they walked up and down the hallway without spotting any clues.

"Thoughts?" she asked.

Steve shrugged. "I mean, there's gotta be something we're missing. Ten doors. Ten…" He trailed off, thinking.

Becca took a closer look at the numbers, but she couldn't spot anything unique about the number plates. Each door was no different from the next apart from the number. No objects sitting around on the floor. No markings on the ceiling.

At the five minute mark, Door #6 rattled hard and growling came from behind it. Becca and Steve looked at each other.

"Guess it's not that door," he commented.

"Guess not."

The three minute warning set Door #1 rattling as well.

"Maybe we should pick a door," said Steve, one hand resting on the handle of Door #3. "Open it a bit, then close it if someone tries to get through."

"I doubt that'll work. If a zombie's behind the door, they'll probably wait until it's open all the way before jumping out. Otherwise, someone could just peek in all the doors."

Steve nodded once with an expression that made Becca think he was down to grasping for any idea.

"Zombies approaching. You have one minute to escape."

There was a bang on the other side of Door #7.

"All right. What's in this hallway?" he questioned.

"Uh…" Becca bounced on her heels. "Doors. Ten doors with numbers and the one door we came through. Um…" She glanced down. "Um…tile floor. Oh, how many tiles are there? Maybe –"

"Already tried that."

Of course he did. "Um… uh…" Ugh, they'd been doing so well. What was it they were missing? Becca turned in a circle. "I don't know. Walls. Ceiling. Uh, a light bulb." Wait. A light bulb. A light bulb that was flickering. "A light bulb."

Steve looked up at the bulb. "What about it?"

"It's _flickering_."

Becca stared up at the bulb right above her. It flickered in four quick bursts, then stopped, then flickered four times again.

They both dove for Door #4. Becca grabbed the handle first and leapt into the room before Steve had enough time to tell her otherwise. He shot through the door behind her to the sound of nine other doors bursting open. She slammed it shut and leaned against the back of the door.

"That… was close," she breathed.

"Yeah."

This room was the largest they'd been in. It had cupboards, cabinets, plastic tubs scattered about. In the center of the floor was the outline of a huge puzzle with the shape of all the pieces that needed to be fit together outlined in black tape. A few of the pieces, also black, were visibly scattered throughout the room.

"I'm starting to think they're taking this puzzle business a bit literally," said Steve.

"You know, maybe." They were suddenly plunged into blackness. "Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me."

"You don't think that if we ask one of the zombies in the hall back there nicely, they'd give us a flashlight?"

"Tell you what, you try that, and I'll stay here and not get eaten." Becca held out a hand in the dark, inching towards where she'd seen one of the walls. "How about I feel around this half of the room and you feel around the other and we'll toss the pieces we find into the middle."

"Sounds like a good plan."

"I have them on occasion."

Becca kept her hands out in front of her, moving slowly so she didn't ram into anything. The first thing she came into contact with was a plastic tub. She felt around the rim and touched foam. It felt like the tub was filled with bits of packing peanuts. She dug through, blindly searching for a puzzle piece. As it turned out, there were three in the tub. She tossed them all behind her.

The lights came back on, setting her blinking rapidly. "While I appreciate the light, I have the feeling it's not going to last."

"We should use it to put the pieces in the right places," Steve advised.

Steve and Becca met in the center of the room, picking up the pieces they had tossed there and setting them in their proper place.

"There are twenty-one pieces left," Steve noted. "We should call 'em as we find 'em."

"Agreed."

They got to their feet to continuing searching.

Becca was enjoying this. It was fun to put together a puzzle and have the extra challenge of the dark. Steve seemed to be enjoying himself as well, which was a relief. He was really good at these challenges, but he hadn't given her the sense that he was bored. Plus, she felt like Steve was being a little protective of her, which was a nice bonus. That had to mean he cared about her, didn't it? Or at least that he was starting to? Becca knew she shouldn't get her hopes up, but, come on, how could she not?

"Last piece," she called out. Instead of throwing it into the center, she held onto it with the other two pieces she had found.

Unfortunately, the room was still dark. She moved towards where the puzzle lay almost finished.

"Come over here so we don't bump into each other," said Becca. She lifted the hand without the puzzle pieces. "Here, I'm holding out a hand, so feel for that before you feel for anything else."

Steve coughed causing Becca to smile. She could hear him shuffling towards her.

"Say something again, Becca."

Becca thought for a split second before saying, "Marco."

"Polo," Steve responded with a laugh.

"Maaaaarcooooo." Steve's hand brushed her arm. "There you are."

"Zombies approaching. You have one minute to escape."

"You have your pieces?" Steve asked, his voice sounding more distant as he moved to the floor.

"Yeah." Becca sank down onto her knees. "So now we just have to find the holes."

As it turned out, putting together a puzzle in the dark was very difficult, even if most of it was done. She kept trying to get the foam pieces to fit together but often she had to slowly rotate them to get exactly the right angle. Nonetheless, she managed to get all of her pieces fit in the correct spot, leaving Steve with the final piece.

"Alert. This room has been compromised."

Through the dark, Becca heard the sound of a door clicking open. Her stomach twisted. She knew that there was no real danger, but having someone unknown in a dark room with her still made her skin creep. She tried to take slow steady breaths.

"How's that last piece coming?" She attempted not to sound anxious and failed.

"Hold on," he whispered back.

There was a scraping noise over on her left and a growl. It's not a real zombie. It's not a real zombie.

"Steve, if something touches me, I am going to scream."

"Just a second." Despite asking her to wait, his tone wasn't impatient. If anything it held a thread of worry.

Becca bit on her bottom lip. It was just a person. They couldn't see her if she was quiet. She shivered and forced her breathing to quiet. Another growl. That was just a person. They were not going to hurt her.

"Got it." Thank God.

The lights blazed on. Becca flinched, forcing herself to blink to adjust her eyes. She should stand up. They had to get –

"Becca, watch out!"

Steve yanked her forwards by her left arm hard enough that she cried out. Becca landed on her hands, instinctively scrabbling forward. She pivoted on her left foot, rising a few inches as she turned, ready to spring from the floor but needing to see what the hell had happened.

Steve had his back to her, shielding her from the zombie she'd heard growling. The zombie was naturally not a nasty undead creature but a man in torn up jeans and a blue button up shirt. His face was pale with makeup and fake blood was smeared across his body. He was staring down at Steve with an expression that was hilariously at odds with his scary apparel because he looked so uncertain. Becca wondered why, but then thought he probably didn't get very many people displaying quite so dramatic a save.

After a second, the zombie reached down and touched Steve's shoulder.

"Dead," he growled.

Becca sighed. So close. She was going to go sit down for a bit so her heart could calm itself down.

"Go on, Becca."

There was something different about the way his voice sounded. Becca's eyebrows rose. Okay, yeah, Steve had put himself in front of her, but…

"But we're in this together," she protested. The zombie wasn't even trying to get to her, so she stayed put.

"Keep going."

Definitely something different. Becca hesitated. Truthfully, if it was her in his place then she would have told Steve to continue and been content to wait. She would have been disappointed for not making it, but content in the knowledge that he was going to make it all the way through.

There had been a change though. What? Steve had sounded fine before. Then the time had run out and he had the last piece and she was waiting for him and it was dark and there was someone coming and… and suddenly Becca remembered that he had told her that he was in the army. She had the sinking feeling that putting a soldier in this situation was not the smartest thing she'd ever done.

"Steve?"

There was a pause, and then he turned his head to look over his shoulder. Something flickered out in his eyes, and he gave her an encouraging smile.

"Go ahead, Becca. Don't make me get eaten for nothing."

Becca chewed on her lip, a protest on the tip of her tongue. Instead of arguing further, she shifted forward on knees, throwing her arms around his neck in a comforting hug. A surprised breath burst from Steve's lips, but then he placed his hands gently on her forearms. She could feel him leaning slightly back against her.

"I'll win," she promised.

"I know."

Becca let go of him and got to her feet. The zombie looked at her and let out a half-hearted growl. Becca turned away and hurried to the next unlocked door.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Cliffhanger! Or cliffhanger-ish. Mwahaha. **

**The Great Z-scape is not based on any specific location, although I have heard of places which are similar. If you have the means, I fully support making it a reality. I will be first in line when it opens. **

**See you next week, lovelies. Thanks for the continued support. **


	6. Not Today, But Someday

Everything had been going fine.

Steve hadn't been quite sure what to expect when Becca stated that the adventure of the day was zombies. As it turned out, the place Becca chose had less to do with zombies and more to do with strategizing and solving puzzles on a timetable, areas which he understood better and was more capable in. He'd felt comfortable with the idea, offered the opportunity to get back into something that he was good at.

Then, they'd reached the room in the dark.

Steve hadn't felt any pressure until the voice told them that the room had been compromised. He'd had the last piece to fit into the puzzle, but accidently knocked it aside while groping around blindly. He heard a door click open, which meant that someone else was in the room. Becca's voice trembled beside him laced with real fear.

His entire body began screaming that that there was a threat in the room. He needed to get Becca out _now_, which he couldn't do until he finished the puzzle.

A growl rumbled through the dark as his fingers touched the last piece. He had to move faster.

"Steve, if something touches me, I am going to scream," whispered Becca.

"Just a second."

He didn't even realize he was responding to Becca's words because all of his focus was narrowed on the shape of the piece in his hand. He turned the piece, jamming it in place. They could go.

"Got it."

When the lights flicked back on, the first thing he saw was an unfamiliar man splattered in blood with his hand outstretched towards Becca. He reacted immediately, pulling her out of danger and setting himself in Becca's place. His hands curled into fists, ready to spring as soon as the man engaged.

It took a moment for Steve to recognize that there was no real threat. The man in front of him was no more than a person in a costume. Steve's body was less willing to accept this explanation, and he nearly grabbed the man as he reached down, proclaiming Steve "dead."

All this was a game. He had to remember that.

Steve knew he needed to be alone, just to calm down. When he got nightmares that made him wake tense and sweating, it took time to clear his head. That's what he needed now, so he told Becca to go. Besides, Becca hadn't been touched, so she could still play.

"Go on, Becca."

"But we're in this together," she protested.

"Keep going."

There was silence, which meant that she wasn't moving. Steve braced for a further argument.

"Steve?"

His instinct told him not to look away from the man, but Becca's voice had gone so quiet that Steve glanced over his shoulder. The way she was staring at him held such concern that he felt that he had to reassure her. So he smiled, despite the tension holding his body in place.

"Go ahead, Becca. Don't make me get eaten for nothing."

The hug was unexpected. Becca's arms were suddenly, but gently, wrapped around his neck, her cheek against his, her chest against his back. He wasn't quite sure what to do with the gesture in that first second, but then he felt some of the tension ease. It'd been a real long time since someone had tried to comfort him like this. Unable to return the hug because of the direction he was facing, he touched her arms.

Becca lifted her head, her expression renewed with a fierce determination.

"I'll win."

Steve felt almost sorry for any zombie that tried to go after her if she didn't finish the next puzzle on time.

"I know," he said.

Becca got to her feet, and Steve watched her disappear through the next door before getting up himself.

"That was some save," said the man in the costume, scratching his chin.

"Thanks."

"Follow me. I'll take you back to the lobby." The man led Steve back towards the hallway with the flickering light bulb. He opened Door #1. "There's only one more room, so your girlfriend shouldn't take more than ten minutes."

"She's actually not my girlfriend," Steve corrected, glad to pick up the new subject. Nick had thought the same thing. Couldn't he go out with a girl without dating her?

Steve stepped into another hallway. There were a number of people lounging around in zombie costumes, some near doors in the walls. One was standing next to small squares of black fabric. So that's where the arm had come shooting when Becca chose the wrong square.

"Ah, been friend zoned?"

"…Yes."

"That sucks." The man gave him a sympathetic look, which let Steve know that "friend zoned" clearly meant something more than he'd guessed. "Isn't she kind of… average to be waiting around for though?"

Steve stared at him. "What?"

"I'm just saying. If I looked like you–" The man shrugged. "– I'd be out dating babes not waiting around for…" The man waved a hand off towards the room where presumably Becca was navigating the final puzzle.

Steve decided he liked this man less and less the more he talked. "For…?"

"Don't get me wrong," the man said, backtracking when he caught Steve's warning tone. "I'm sure she's great, but don't wait around in the friend zone for a seven when you could score a ten. You get what I'm saying?" He opened a door out into the lobby.

Steve clenched his teeth, the muscles along his jaw pulling taut. All the remaining tension felt like it had redirected itself into his right arm, and Steve had to refrain from slugging the smile off the man's face.

"No. I don't," he responded. "But, you know, maybe if you started thinking of women as people instead of numbers, you could get the one you wanted."

Steve stalked past the man, leaving him speechless. He picked up his leather jacket from its coat hook and pulled it on, yanking so hard that the shoulder seams creaked. He grabbed Becca's jacket as well.

So what if Becca wasn't exceptionally beautiful? He never knew how to talk to women like that anyway. He could talk to Becca. He liked her the way she was: funny, enthusiastic, and strong-willed. That was a personality he knew how to handle. If she was kinda pretty too, that was beside the point.

He took a seat in one of the empty chairs, fixing his gaze on the door leading from the last room into the lobby.

Furthermore, anyone who spent five minutes with Becca would know that she was too energetic to be considered "average."

The door he'd been watching burst open, and Becca came hurtling through it, startling the three women checking in at the front desk. She spun around, having to take in the lobby before throwing up her hands.

"Victory!" she crowed. "No one's eating these brains today!"

Steve smiled. Yeah, if there was something exceptional about Becca it was definitely the energy.

Becca finally spotted him and lowered her arms. "Hey."

"Hi," he greeted, getting out of the chair.

Steve held out her jacket for her to shrug on. Oblivious to the gesture, she swiped it from him absentmindedly and flung it over her shoulders like a cape.

"So we won."

He nodded. "I think some people down on fifty-ninth missed the announcement. You'll have to be a little louder."

"Don't tempt me, Steve," Becca said with a wide grin. "I've got a set of pipes, and I know how to use 'em."

Steve held up his arms in mock defeat as Becca headed for the exit.

"How was the last room?"

"Ugh, stressful," Becca informed him, pushing open the door with her back. "There was a zombie in a cage, and the cage door was slowly lifting the whole time, and there were all these pegs and chutes and balls and rings and magnets and I don't even know how to explain it to you. I don't even know if I can explain it to myself. It's sort of a blur."

"Sounds like it," Steve chuckled.

They walked back along the street towards the subway. Although the sidewalk had been nearly deserted before the entered The Great Z-scape, it had gained a stream of people coming home from work. When he shifted towards Becca to allow someone by, he noticed that she was frowning.

"You all right?"

"Mmmm?" Becca stopped examining the sidewalk and looked up at him. "Oh, well, speaking of stressful zombies and stuff..." Becca rubbed her elbow.

"Uh huh," Steve prompted when she hesitated.

"So you might have noticed that I don't always think things through before doing them."

"Really?" Steve didn't think it was possible not to notice.

Becca smacked his arm. "Shhh. I'm trying to be serious for a minute here."

That got Steve's attention. "Sorry."

"No, no. It's okay. I um…" Becca cleared her throat and pulled her jacked more tightly around her shoulders.

This was more than Steve had seen Becca hesitate over anything. As she pointed out, she was generally impulsive, so whatever she had to say, it must be important to her. While Steve was tempted to let her know that she could tell him whatever it was without needing to dance around the point, he would wait until she was ready to speak.

"Okay, I'm going to just say it," Becca stated. She took a deep breath. "When we were in the room where you threw yourself in front of me, which was very valiant of you by the way, I sorta got the sense that the situation might have triggered something. You did tell me you were in the army, and I should have taken that into consideration. It's just, I'm a believer in treating everyone the same even if they've been through something difficult, but in this case I'm not sure that was the right choice to make.

"If this trip brought anything up, I want to apologize. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but, of course, I want you to know that you can always talk to me about anything. Despite how it seems, I can actually sit still long enough to be a good listener. So yeah, there it is: my very long ramble to say I'm sorry."

Of all the things Becca could have brought up, Steve supposed he should have expected this would be it. After all, she'd looked at him with such wide-eyed concern back in that room. What Steve appreciated about her response, both then and now, was the lack of pity. Becca wasn't talking like she felt sorry for him. Obviously she wanted to help, but that was different. Also, she wasn't trying to force him to talk about the situation, though she left room for him to talk if he chose. It might take some restraint, but Steve didn't doubt that Becca would listen quietly if she thought he really needed to talk.

Steve was sorely tempted to tell her the truth right then. Clearly he had made the right choice when he'd stood his ground over maintaining their friendship, and Becca was offering the opportunity for him to do the right thing confiding in her. She wasn't a S.H.I.E.L.D. shrink. She wasn't Nick who, although Steve didn't mind talking to, was keeping all his cards close to the chest. Becca was just a friend offering to listen. Steve didn't think she'd walk away.

"I know my face is distracting, but if you wouldn't mind saying something so I know I'm not off here?" requested Becca, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ears self-consciously.

Steve didn't think so… but he wasn't certain.

"No, you're not off," Steve confessed. He could give her a sliver of the truth. "I appreciate it, Becca. Really. I'll take you up on that offer someday, but not today."

Steve promised himself "someday" was going to be soon. As soon as he got back to his apartment, Steve was going to seriously consider how to tell her.

Becca eyed him searchingly and then nodded once. "Someday," she agreed.

"And I did have fun," Steve continued, not wanting Becca to feel guilty.

"Oh good."

Relief was more acceptable than a frown, but Steve thought he could do better.

"But I'm not sure it was quite as good as the adventure I planned."

"Um, excuse me?" That was all it took for Becca to be herself again. She nudged him. "I think zombies trump hiking on the adventure scale."

"They weren't real zombies," he pointed out.

"Tch. So?" Becca shrugged. "They were close enough for you apparently."

"Ouch, Becca."

"Don't you 'ouch, Becca' me. You got all smart on me, so clearly you're over it."

"Well, one of us needs to be smart or we wouldn't have made it through all those puzzles."

Becca gasped, putting a hand over her heart with an exaggerated movement. Steve couldn't help laughing.

"Oh, I see how it is," she said. "I'm going to remember this."

"Well, fortunately, I'm picking the next adventure so…"

"And what are you going to think up that's better than pseudo-zombies, I'd like to know?"

"Uh…" Steve thought. "Pseudo-werewolves?"

Becca rolled her eyes, but then held up a hand and pointed. "There wolves." She swung her hand across the street. "There castle." Steve's confusion must have shown because she questioned, "You haven't seen _Young Frankenstein_?"

Steve had a movie _about_ Frankenstein, but she wasn't quoting anything familiar from that movie.

"No."

"Well, do you have Netflix?"

"N-no?"

"Okay, you are coming with me to my apartment right now, and we are fixing this. It's hilarious, I promise. I will even give you popcorn."

Steve had no inclination to argue. He liked watching movies, but there were so many that it was hard for him to figure out which ones to choose. A comedy about a somewhat familiar subject seemed like as good a choice as any.

"I do like popcorn," said Steve. "And movies."

Becca took his arm. "Excellent. It's decided."

* * *

By the time they reached her apartment, Becca had discovered that the list of amazing movies Steve hadn't seen was woefully long. At first he'd seemed worried by her reactions, but that worry had long faded into amusement at her increasingly agonized remarks.

"But you have to have at least seen oneof the _Star Wars_ movies," Becca prodded as she shut the door to her apartment. "How could you not have seen any of them?"

"Well, it's either I've been living under a rock, I'm an alien who is clearly not doing his job of observing human culture, or the Matrix has finally glitched," Steve recounted. His brow furrowed. "Although, I'm still not really sure I get that last one."

Becca groaned and rubbed the corners of her eyes. How was this even possible?

"You're kidding, right?" she asked yet again. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Steve shrugged agreeably. "All right. I'm kidding."

"You're not though, and it distresses me."

"I've noticed."

There were people out there who didn't watch many movies. Becca knew that and considered it a shame that they were missing out on the wonders of film. Nonetheless, even the people who had minimal film exposure had, at some point in their lives, seen one of the classic movies imbedded in pop culture Yet, Steve inexplicably managed to miss out on all of them despite his assertion that he did enjoy watching movies.

"What about the classics?" Becca suggested, shrugging off her jacket. "_Jaws_? _Godzilla_? Um… _The Sound of Music_?" She hung the jacket on a coat rack next to the door, indicating with a nod of her head for Steve to do the same. "_Gone with the Wind_? Um…"

"I have seen _Gone with the Wind_," Steve interrupted with excitement.

Becca's eyebrows rose. "Of all the movies, _that's_ the one you've seen?"

She had sort of meant listed that movie as a joke, but far be it from her to judge if Steve was into classic romance movies. As long as he didn't ask her to sit through _Sleepless in Seattle_, they'd be fine. Plus, his expression was too eager for her to want to burst his bubble.

"Well, at least I know you do actually watch movies," Becca sighed. She had started to speculate that he'd only agreed to the film to spare her feelings or something along those lines. "Go ahead and grab a seat on the couch. I'll throw some popcorn in the microwave."

Becca left him to hunt down popcorn in the kitchen. She wondered whether it might be productive to start with a film more popular than _Young Frankenstein_, but she enjoyed the movie and it was well-known enough to be worth having Steve watch. They might have to start interspersing adventures with movie nights though.

After finding the box of microwavable popcorn shoved behind the cereal, Becca popped a bag into the microwave and ducked into the bathroom to quickly freshen up. On the way back, she hesitated by her bedroom door. Should she take her meds now? Then she wouldn't have to think about them until after Steve had left.

Becca went into her bedroom and got the bottles out of her bedside table. She glanced at the clock. It was too soon. Becca almost put the bottles back in the drawer, but then lifted them again. It was only too soon by forty minutes. The last time she'd taken her meds early, she'd been fine.

Instead of having to come up with an excuse later, Becca swallowed the two tablets with water from a cup on her desk before hustling back to the kitchen.

The popcorn was almost done. Becca opened the refrigerator to see what there was to drink. Not a whole lot as it turned out.

"Beer okay with you?" she called.

"Yeah, that's fine," Steve responded.

Good because it was all they had besides milk and cranberry juice.

Becca took out two bottles and uncapped them. The microwave beeped as she was tossing the caps into the trash. Mmmm, it already smelled delicious. She emptied the bag of popcorn into a large bowl and mixed in a palm-full of salt. She carried it out to the living room with the beers clasped in the opposite hand.

Steve got up from the couch as soon as he saw her.

"Need a hand?"

"All set, but you can take this." Becca shifted her fingers so that one of the beers stuck out.

Steve took it from her. "Thanks."

"Mhmm."

Becca sank into her seat on the opposite end of the couch from Steve, setting the bowl of popcorn on the cushion between them where it would be easily reachable.

"So what was the last movie you even watched?" she asked, picking up the remote.

"_Red_."

Becca paused in the middle of logging onto Netflix. All right, so classic romantic films and comedy action movies were his thing. Actually, to be fair, he had never said he'd liked _Gone with the Wind_, only that he had seen it. Becca had watched the film for an elective film class in college. People did watch movies for different, weird reasons.

"Not that that's not a good movie, but it's kinda random," Becca noted.

"It was playing when I turned the TV on."

"Ah, one of those kinds of movie watches. Got it." Becca ran a search for _Young Frankenstein_. "Well, I would suggest investing in Netflix instead of settling for whatever's on because you have a _lot_ of great stuff you're missing out on." Becca reached out and touched Steve's shoulder. "I will help start you down the path, but alas, I am just one woman who can do little more than direct you towards superior technology."

Steve laughed. "I appreciate it, but… I don't know. I think watching you react to the movies I haven't seen might be more entertaining."

Becca huffed. A quest to enlighten him on the greats of film might be wasted. Then, a sly smile crept over her lips.

"I'm sure that I'm no more entertaining than your reaction to that group of girls trying to flirt with you across the subway car," she purred.

Steve suddenly looked embarrassed, although not quite as much as he had when one of the girls winked at him. It had taken a lot of will power for Becca not to burst out laughing as the girls had all tried to maneuver in the seats to make them appear as flattering as possible. Eventually, she'd taken pity on Steve and brought up the subject of movies, which had gotten the both of them thoroughly distracted, much to the girls' disappointment, she was sure.

"How old do you think they were?" Becca mused, tapping the remote. "Sixteen?"

Steve rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Definitely too young."

"The way they giggled when you looked at them. If it was any higher in pitch, I swear my eardrums would have started bleeding."

"All right, are we gonna watch this movie?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably on the couch cushion and avoiding eye contact.

"Oh, sorry. I was so entertained, I almost forgot." Becca dug her hand into the popcorn bowl and started the movie, swearing she heard Steve sigh in relief.

Despite her teasing, Becca couldn't blame the girls for noticing Steve even if he was too old for them. He was ridiculously good looking, and he went from hot to damn cute when he was flustered. And Becca had to give this to the girls, they might have looked silly while doing it, but they'd actively tried to flirt with Steve. That was more than she had done.

Becca didn't know what to do about the situation. She told herself that they could just be friends, and she could wait and see if anything developed beyond that. She had thought it was better to find out more about him so as to be sure that any attempt to get involved was worth the risk. So Becca waited. But it was becoming increasingly obvious that her brain, heart, whatever had gone on and decided to like him whether it was a good idea or not.

Becca could hint that she was interested with a few flirty remarks. If she was feeling particularly bold, she could go for holding his hand instead of taking his arm. There were a million ways to flirt with him.

Steve hadn't done anything to specifically indicate that he was interested, but he also never explicitly told her that he wasn't. Becca had backed off because she'd sensed that he needed some space, but that was a few weeks ago. Things could change in a few weeks. They'd hung out a handful of times. Becca thought they clicked. Hell, this was more to start on than she'd had in the past.

What had Becca hesitating was that she wasn't sure if Steve felt the same way. If she tried, only to be rejected, that would be awkward for both of them. Becca hated awkward. That and…

Becca was broken out of contemplating the situation by Steve's laughter. She lifted her head from resting on her hand. Right, they were watching a movie. She had invited Steve over. The least she could do was be attentive while he was here. The problem of whether or not to flirt with him was being shelved to think about later tonight.

At least Steve was enjoying the movie, but then they did share a similar sense of humor. Yet another reason why they'd work well together. Ugh, she had to focus.

Once Becca began paying attention, it was easy to get caught up in the movie. She kept fidgeting though once her meds kicked in. Maybe taking them early before having to sit for a few hours wasn't the best plan. Tapping her fingers against her knee took some of the edge off, enough to let her concentrate on the screen. Also getting into a popcorn fight helped, even if using a pillow as a shield was so cheating.

Becca might not even have noticed Ally coming home from work if her roommate hadn't spoken up the minute she'd walked in the door.

"Well, you'll never guess what – Hi."

Becca scooped up the remote and hit pause. "Hey. Steve this–" She noticed that Steve had gotten to his feet, looking nearly as embarrassed as he had with the girls on the subway. Weird. "–is Ally, my roommate," she introduced.

Ally extended a hand. "I was the sultry voice on the intercom when you picked up Becca that one time."

"Right," he said, shaking her hand. "It's good to finally meet you."

Was he blushing? Becca peered at him, tossing the last piece of popcorn into her mouth instead of using it as ammo. That was definitely a pink tinge on his cheeks. Oh, please let this not be over the appearance of her roommate. Becca was going to be so put out if he asked after Ally. Fortunately, Ally had made things official with Danny, not that she would have reciprocated when Becca had already hinted how she felt about Steve.

"Becca's been telling me lots of good things," Ally continued.

Steve glanced at Becca. "Yeah?"

Becca gave him a smile, but as soon as his eyes left her she shot Ally a warning look. Her roommate meant well, but Becca didn't want her help because that could only end in embarrassment. Ally's eyebrows rose marginally, which indicated to Becca that she'd gotten the message.

"Mhmm. You know, my boyfriend Danny and I are hitting up this carnival in Roslyn on Saturday. You should come with Becca," Ally invited. "It'll be fun. Like a double date."

Of course, that didn't mean Ally was going to listen. Becca felt like her insides had fallen through the couch. She almost picked up a pillow and buried her face in it. Why couldn't Ally have taken the damn hint?

"Uh… I…" The hesitation in Steve's tone was enough that Becca did grab the pillow, although she stopped in time from making a nose dive.

"Well, think about it," Ally said without waiting for an answer. "I'm just gonna borrow Becca for two seconds."

Becca jumped off the couch without a glance back at Steve and followed Ally into her roommate's bedroom, torn between being mortified and angry. Ally had given Becca a nudge with a guy before, but she'd never been this direct.

Becca waited until the door was closed to hiss, "What the hell, Ally?"

Ally shrugged. "Clearly you needed an intervention."

"What does that even mean?"

"Um, you have a gorgeous man in the apartment with you, alone, and you're sitting across the couch from him," Ally elaborated, crossing to the closet to put away her suit jacket.

"Well, where should I be sitting? Next to him?"

"Or on top of him."

"Ally! Seriously?" Becca snapped.

"What? Clearly you weren't going to make a move, so I helped you out."

"Maybe I would have." Ally gave her a doubtful look. "Eventually."

Becca rubbed her forehead. This was so not okay. She needed some more time to think, but Ally had to just swoop in. What was Steve going to think?

"Look, you like him don't you?" Ally prompted, folding her arms. "I mean, you mention him practically every day."

"But I don't know if he likes me." Becca leaned against the wall behind her and sighed. "That's the problem."

"And how is just sitting there going to solve that problem?"

Sitting there wasn't doing a thing, and Becca knew it. She scuffed her foot across the floor, hesitating.

"I don't know."

Ally pursed her lips. "Okay, so…?"

Becca threw up her hands. "I don't know!" She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "Just please don't help anymore."

Ally frowned, kicking the closet door shut. She surveyed Becca's flushed face and nodded.

"All right. I'm sorry," Ally apologized. "He seemed good for you. I didn't want you to miss out."

Becca chewed on the corner of her lip. She was still pissed off, but she knew Ally mean well. She'd made an inconsiderate move, but she meant well.

"What is even up with you, girl?" Ally questioned. "You're not usually this shy."

"I… I just…"

What had Becca hesitating, more than an uncertainty over how Steve felt, was a growing fear over her injuries. The doctors had said her nerves might heal in a two to six months, but they might not heal at all. What if she hinted to Steve that she liked him and he returned those feelings? He'd have to know about the meds she took, and maybe he'd treat her different. Worse, what if after going steady for a while, she hadn't healed? Becca didn't want to worry him if she fell asleep only to wake gasping in pain as she fumbled for the relief of pain medication. Neither did she want him to witness her in the mornings before she had a chance for the Adderall to bring her back to usual, happy self.

"It's complicated."

Ally's frown deepened. "Becca –"

"I'm going to go see if I can work damage control." Becca straightened up and pulled the door open. They could discuss this later.

The walk down the hallway was difficult. Becca wasn't expecting Steve to straight up disappear on her. He was too nice for that. More likely than not, he'd simply tell her that he wasn't interested. If he did, then she'd know. Maybe they could work through the awkward. She'd like to try. Or maybe she could pass it all off as Ally making assumptions. That was the route Becca thought would work the best.

Or he might like to come. Steve could conceivably say yes.

Becca was hoping he wouldn't notice her for a second so she could judge the situation. Of course, Steve looked right at her as soon as she entered, and she couldn't read a thing off of him.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, fine." Becca plopped back down on the couch. She noticed that Steve had picked up all the popcorn that had been scattered by the fight and put them back in the bowl. Why did he have to be so damn thoughtful? "Sorry about that. Ally's great, but she can be a handful."

Becca picked up the remote, no longer able to look Steve in the face. If she put the movie back on, they might be able to move past it without discussion.

"Becca, about Saturday…"

Or not.

"It's fine. You don't have to come," said Becca.

Her finger hesitated over the play button, waiting for a beat of silence.

"It's not that I don't think you're–"

That was all Becca needed to hear. If Steve was going to accept the offer, he would have done it first thing. The truth stung, but not so much she was going to cry about it. Having him as a friend was nice, and it avoided complications. Better she knew now. Time for some damage control.

"Steve, really. Don't worry about it. Ally has a hard time with the concept that men can be just friends, too." Becca made herself meet his eyes and smile. "Besides, it's your turn to plan the next adventure."

Becca wasn't sure that Steve bought it, and she felt her nerves vibrating under his questioning gaze. Then, he returned her smile.

"Right."

Becca relaxed. Crisis averted. She unpaused the movie.

"So she's a handful, huh?" Steve questioned.

"Yeah." Becca tossed the remote back onto the coffee table with the empty beer bottles and bowl of discarded popcorn. As she was settling into the cushion, she noticed his disbelieving expression. "What?"

Steve shrugged a shoulder. "I just didn't think there was anyone out there who was more of a handful than you."

Becca threw a pillow at him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Shut. Down. All right, Steve didn't so much shut Becca down as begin to turn her down in what would have been a very apologetic if somewhat embarrassed manner. I think that, considering what Steve is going through, he would need and want a friend more than experiencing the newness of a relationship. ****Never fear! He'll come around. Love has a funny way of creeping up on us (Hallmark quote of the day, check). **

**In case y'all wanted another movie recommendation, _Young Frankenstein._ It's pretty funny and very quotable. I think Steve would appreciate its humor as well as the fact that it's in black and white. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favourited!**


	7. Going Underground

Steve made his way through the shuffle of people crowding the subway platform. He hadn't planned on doing much more than hitting a few punching bags, but he'd made plans with Becca after talking to her on the phone earlier. She was busy the next few days, but sounded perfectly willing when he suggested today. He didn't mind seeing her again so soon. After all, he'd left her apartment wondering if she would want to see much more of him.

With the incident at Becca's apartment, Steve realized how dumb he'd been. He wished that he could put it down to his inexperience with women, but that wasn't entirely fair. His relief to have someone who wanted nothing more than to be a friend, to have something uncomplicated and familiar, had left him half blind. He almost apologized to Becca for not noticing that she had other ideas, but Becca made it clear that she had no desire to talk about the difference between what they had wanted from each other. While Becca must have been unsure before, he was certain she knew then.

Steve let it go, praying that he hadn't lost his one friend and Becca would be content as they were. She was nice enough, and, if he was any example, she had the ability to talk men she just met into anything. Becca would find someone else to turn that kind of attention towards. But, not wanting to lose her entirely, he still called and she still answered with the usual level of enthusiasm, making him hopeful that everything between them was fine.

"Hi there, stranger." Becca appeared beside him in the crowd. She looped her arm through his, and he decided to take that as a sign that everything really was fine. "You cut your hair. It looks good."

Steve raised a hand, running it over the shorter hair, which continued to feel strange to the touch. He'd never had his hair this short. Ma had cut it when he was a kid, and he was so used to the weight that the style had hardly varied over the years. Hairstyles tended to run shorter now, but he had been hesitant to make the change and leave the one physical part of him reminiscent of home behind. However, he'd made a number of steps to adapt so far, and this felt like the next one.

Also, the nice, elderly woman at the convenience store near his apartment remarked to him that her husband had the same haircut when they were dating and hadn't been aware young people were returning to the same style. That was the final push. Steve had gone right from the store to the barber shop.

"Thanks." Steve started up the stairs, mindful that there needed to be space for both of them before taking a step up.

"Mhmm. It's…" Becca tipped her head. "More professional athlete, less rich boy prep school."

The haircut had been a good choice, he decided. Steve would definitely take athlete over rich boy, even if he didn't think his hair had been quite that bad.

"Did I not mention I signed onto the Yankees?" he joked.

"What?" Becca gasped, accompanied by a dramatic sweep of her hand over her mouth. "And you didn't tell me at once? The nerve."

"Sorry."

"I'll forgive you if I get a good hint about where we're going," she said with a sniff.

The hints they gave each other tended to be less than helpful, if not plain cryptic, so by this point he knew better than to concede to Becca's request.

"I already gave you a hint," Steve reminded her as they reached the top of the stairs. "I told you to wear whatever it is you can really move in."

In Becca's case, that had amounted to beat up sneakers, a jacket in the style he'd seen other women wear while out for a run, and a bag attached at her hip in place of a purse. She'd also pulled her hair back into a ponytail, the end of which fell back behind her shoulder as she flicked it away, frowning at him.

"That so does not count," she argued.

"Why not?"

"Because you had to tell me that. After making me trek up a mountain in a sweater, you owe me."

"That's funny because I seem to remember _someone_ insisting we continue all the way up even though I suggested we go back." Steve gave her a pointed look, to which Becca responded with a dismissive wave.

"Details. It was still your idea. Also, I said a good hint. 'What I can really move in?' How much movement are we doing here?" Becca let go of his arm to hook two fingers around the edge of his open leather jacket. She pulled it back an inch. "All you did is change into, what? A t-shirt?"

Really it was a plain white undershirt, but that was close enough. Steve hadn't bought any new clothing beyond what he'd been given. There had been no point in spending money on what he saw other men running in when he couldn't run himself without attracting unwanted attention. This worked well enough for the gym, and it would certainly work for what he had planned.

"You'll see. I just wanted to be sure you could keep up," he remarked, partly teasing.

Becca let go of his jacket, drawing herself up in a manner he assumed was supposed to be threatening.

"I would give you a good shove," she stated before letting her shoulders slump. "But I don't know how much effect pushing you would have. You're built like a freaking rock."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Mmm. I might need to start rethinking my methods."

Becca peered at him. The close assessment of her gaze made the back of Steve's neck tingle warningly. As he made sure they weren't going to bump into anyone on the sidewalk, he kept a close eye on Becca, who had gone thoughtfully silent. Which was why he was ready when her hand darted out.

Steve blocked her with a flick of his wrist, deflecting her reach. He hadn't predicted Becca anticipating his movement, however, so when her other hand followed immediately behind, it pressed into his side. Instead of poking him in the ribs, the expected sign of mild annoyance that was only slightly less popular than a nudge of her shoulder, her fingers brushed against him and wiggled.

Steve flinched away, letting out a loud breath. His ribs shifted out of reach of her fingers while his elbow dropped protectively against his side.

"You're ticklish," Becca declared with a smirk.

"Yeah." Steve rubbed the spot she had found, wary in case she tried to reach him again. "And you're not?"

Becca's smirk widened. "Nope."

Steve directed them around a corner onto another street. The last time he had been tickled was when he was real young. He'd forgotten how strange the sensation was, not quite unpleasant, but not the nicest experience either. Even if he wouldn't have retaliated in the same way, he felt cheated that he couldn't.

"Yeah, well, maybe we can leave that method of torture to the kids," he said.

"Are you implying that I'm acting childish?"

"Stating it," he corrected.

"I've gotta let the inner child out once and a while. She gets bored," Becca joked. "Besides, I think you're just grumpy because I can tickle you, and you can do absolutely nothing about it."

"I could go right back to the subway." Steve smiled. "Then, you'd never know where we were headed."

Becca shrugged. "And I could jump you and tickle the information out of you."

"I don't think so," Steve informed her.

"Is that a challenge?" Becca's eyes narrowed. "Because it sounded like one."

"No. It's not a challenge." Steve held out his arm like a peace offering and, after a moment's hesitation, Becca took it. "Because for it to be a challenge, you'd have to have a chance."

Becca sucked in a breath. Her fingers tightened around his arm, although not enough to hurt. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, causing the dusting of freckles to darken as her eyes glinted with bright determination.

Sometimes he ran off his mouth too far. Steve had to wonder if she really was going to attempt to attack him in the middle of the sidewalk. He could fend her off, of course, but not without it appearing like a scuffle to anyone passing by, even if he was careful with her.

As Becca leaned closer to him, Steve readied himself. He was prepared to make an apology first in the hopes of avoiding the entire situation, but then Becca merely smiled like she knew what he'd been thinking.

"You know, I am actually a grown up," Becca chided. "Most of the time."

Steve allowed himself to relax. "Right."

"Also, this is not an ideal location." Becca scuffed one foot on the cement but continued walking in stride. "Too many hard surfaces. Too many people."

"So… am I supposed to be worried?"

Becca winked at him. "Guess that depends where we're adventuring. If I had a proper hint, maybe I could tell you."

For someone who didn't want to be told explicitly where they were going, Becca was very persistent about wanting a useful hint. Steve considered what to tell her when the hint presented itself.

"All right, you want a good hint?"

"Yes, please."

"One o'clock."

Becca frowned ponderously. "That's a good hint?"

"Now it's two o'clock."

"What do you – Oh!" Becca turned her head to face across the street in the direction he'd been indicating.

If Steve had learned anything from the last two places where Becca had chosen to meet, it was that she liked games. He might not know about things like The Great Z-scape, but there was a certain type of place that was bound to still exist and was, in a way, a game. He'd gone on a search, taking up the excuse to hone his internet capability. The one he'd chosen had opened this week, so he was certain that Becca had never been. Also, the website had indicated there was no admission fee for the first few days because they wanted people for a "trial run." S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him a generous budget, but Steve avoided spending when possible.

The building Steve had identified was noticeable for its short height, around two stories, which was unusual in New York City. The walls were dark brick, broken only by a glass door with a single window next to it. Carved into stone above the doorway were the words "The Tunnels."

Becca threw him a questioning look, but Steve shook his head. She wasn't getting any more out of him.

When there was enough time between cars, they crossed the street. Steve pulled open the door to a gust of chilled air. Becca stepped through the door first into a small lobby furnished with a few wooden chairs and framed black and white pictures of subway trains. A receptionist was sitting at a corner desk beside an open doorframe with stairs leading down and out of sight.

The receptionist said a few more words into the phone, beckoning them over with a friendly wave as she did so.

"Welcome to The Tunnels," the receptionist said with a mild Southern accent. "New York's only underground maze."

As Steve had hoped, Becca's expression lit up. She bounced on her toes in anticipation and beamed at him. Steve felt a stroke of pride for finding an adventure-worthy place that obviously ranked up with her last choice. He was also pleased that he'd picked something that made her smile up at him like that.

"Y'all ready for some fun?"

"Always," said Becca, her gaze flicking away from him and focusing on the receptionist.

"Well, all right," laughed the receptionist. "Just a few things to get you started." She rifled through a desk drawer. "We're working on getting an estimate for how long it takes to get through the maze, so I'm gonna give you two a stopwatch. Just press it when you get to the bottom of the stairs, stop it when you get back, and if you could check the time when you reach the center. There'll be a star, that's how you'll know." She placed the small plastic stopwatch on the desk and went into another drawer. "And I'm also gonna give you a little pen light. If ya'll want to get out for any reason, you just give it a wave for the cameras. Someone will come find you, all right?" She set a silver pen light next to the stopwatch as Steve and Becca nodded.

"I can take these." Becca reached for the stopwatch and light. "They'll fit in my bag."

"Just so you know, ma'am, there are some obstacles in the maze," the receptionist stated. "That bag looks small enough that it won't get in your way, but we have some lockers if you'd like to leave it."

With an outside pocket almost opened, Becca's fingers twitched from the zipper and curled tightly around the bag like she was protecting it. Steve eyed the bag, contemplating what inside would spark that reaction, but then he supposed he wouldn't like the idea of leaving his wallet much either. He trusted the receptionist fine, but the wrong kind of people had a way of turning up in a city.

"I think we're fine," Steve stated. "But thank you, ma'am."

Becca's fingers flexed. She tucked away the pen light. "Yeah, thanks."

"Sure thing. You two have fun now."

The dismissal was all Becca needed to break for the stairs with an eagerness that drew Steve along behind her, shaking his head in amusement. Something was telling him that it would be best to have Becca take the lead on this one. She glanced back at him, arching an impatient eyebrow at his still being on the top step while she had already descended a number of them.

"Come on, slowpoke," she prompted.

Yeah, he'd definitely let Becca lead.

* * *

The moment Steve touched the floor beside her, Becca started the stopwatch. She put it in the outside pocket of her bag beside the pen light, which she was determined not to use. They were going to make it through this maze on their own come hell or high water, or whatever more likely obstacles the maze presented.

The stairs had led them to a roughly carved stone tunnel. The ceiling was strung every few feet with a light bulb encased in a plastic cage, visible orange wires running between the bulbs. This let off a surprisingly bright light, a comfort as shadows would have left Becca nervous about rats. The tunnel stretched out in both directions, so Becca randomly decided to start out going left.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've gone through a maze?" she asked.

"A while?" Steve guessed.

"Ages."

In her hometown there had been a maze built of hay bales every year at the harvest fair, but it was tiny, both in length and height. Only small children ran through it, accompanied by the occasional slightly older kid who thought it was fun to jump between the stacks of hay until a parent whisked them off. Becca had been disappointed the year her parents had steered her away. She's never been given a reason to pick her way through another maze, so she was excited at the chance.

Becca reached out and ran a hand along the wall as they walked. The stone was cold, nipping at the tips of her fingers. The air around them was cool as well, making Becca thankful for her jacket.

"I do remember reading somewhere that the best way to get through a maze is to pick one of the walls and follow it."

Steve nodded his head once. "I guess that makes sense."

The tunnel turned sharply to the right and connected them to a new tunnel. The ceiling had vaulted up to nearly twice Becca's height. The wall in front of them left a gap between it and the ceiling, but was still tall enough that neither Becca nor Steve could see over it. Due to the curve of the ceiling, which continued over the gap, Becca got the sense that this tunnel was much larger when it had been constructed. It had been broken up by the placement of the wall.

"These were abandon subway tunnels," Steve explained, having undoubtedly noticed Becca eyeing the ceiling with curiosity.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

There were three corridors leading off of this tunnel. Becca went for the one on the right since that was where the wall she had chosen was leading.

"Huh. I think the only way this maze could get more awesome is if it was, like, the labyrinth of the Mole People or something."

"Mole People?" Steve repeated slowly as if Becca had spouted out a foreign phrase.

"Yeah, you know, the Mole People." Becca's eyebrows drew together. "Didn't you grow up here? How have you never heard of the Mole People?" The corridor split, but they continued along the right wall.

"I, uh…" Steve appeared to be groping for a good explanation, so Becca cut him some slack.

"I'm starting to think you really did live under a rock," teased Becca with a shake of her head. "It's an urban legend. Supposedly there are people running around under New York, half human half mole."

Steve looked at her disbelievingly. "And they live in a labyrinth?"

"No, but they're part mole. Moles make tunnels. They could make a labyrinth."

"Are these Mole People the size of a subway train?" Steve questioned, squinting up at the ceiling.

"Well, no. They're human size, but there are a lot of them. Lots of claws." Becca curved her fingers like talons for emphasis. "It could be done." They hit a dead end and turned back.

"But it's a legend."

"Yeah, but legends do make things more exciting, right?"

"I think you were plenty excited before you thought of Mole People."

"Well, come on, it's an underground maze. It's exciting! It's fun!" Becca abruptly whirled around and snatched up Steve's hands. "Be excited with me, Steve," she invited, swinging their hands as she continued to walk backwards.

Steve laughed. "You are going to hit a wall walking like that."

"That's part of the excitement!"

"All right, I'm excited," Steve chuckled. "So would you please turn around?"

Becca grinned and let go of his hands. "Only 'cause you asked nicely." She spun back in the correct direction and once again ran her fingers along the wall.

After another two dead ends, Becca and Steve turned into a wide corridor that housed the first obstacle. Thick ropes had been woven together across the corridor like a massive spider's web. A wall stone wall placed behind the web made it impossible to see the other side. The web had been set at such an angle that would prevent anyone falling off onto the stone floor, but would feel like a climb nonetheless.

"You can go first," Steve offered.

"Okay."

Becca started climbing close to the middle, instead of the left or right, since that was where the ropes were bunched the closest together, making better hand and foot holds. At first, it was easy. The slope was gentle, and she was able to pull herself along if there were no convenient places for her feet. Then, the ropes began to space out more. The incline was steeper. The ropes wobbled more as Becca moved between them. She had to pause to consider where to place her hand next instead of choosing at random.

"Do you want help?" Steve asked after she got herself stuck between two threads of rope that would be difficult to grab no matter which she chose.

"No thanks," Becca replied. She had considered backtracking, but decided against it.

She had this. There was no way she was failing on the very first obstacle. Come on. She just had to channel her inner spider. Becca crouched as much as she could.

Once the ropes stopped swaying, Becca sprung upwards and grabbed one of the ropes. She threw her other hand upwards and managed to snatch another rope. Her shoulders burned at the task of holding her full body weight. She peered down at her feet, one of which had slipped through a gap while the other hung uselessly against a vertical rope.

"You sure?"

"Yup," grunted Becca. She swung the useless leg over to an available rope and sighed in relief when the pressure on her arms lessened. "This was too easy, so I thought I'd make it more interesting."

"Right."

Extracting her foot from the gap turned out to be a complicated process as it involved lowering herself enough that the rope wouldn't get caught on her shoelaces. By the time Becca reached the top, her hands were pink, but she swung a leg over the top of the wall with triumph.

From where she sat, Becca could see the maze spread out before her. She wasn't high enough to pick out a path all the way through, but that would have ruined the challenge. Then, she looked down and almost groaned. There was another web, a mirror of the one she had scaled. Did they let kids into this maze? Kids were made of elastic and rubber, so maybe they would have had an easier time of it.

"It's another web on this side," she called to Steve. She tried to find the best route. "I'll see you down there."

"All right."

Becca pivoted off the wall and lowered herself onto a nearby rope. She found the descent easier since she could drop and slide between foot holds. She was feeling rather satisfied with herself until, halfway down, she glanced up and spotted Steve sitting on top of the wall and watching her.

"You never told me you were raised by spiders," Becca reproached. Climbing up ropes had probably been basic army training. She should have thought of that.

"It slipped my mind."

"Of course."

Near the end, Becca swung around and slid the last few feet. She pushed off the ropes and brushed off her hands. She threaded her fingers and stretched her arms up to loosen the muscles.

"Okay, Steve. Let's see what you got."

Steve glanced down at the tangle of rope. Becca figured he would shimmy down the web with trained ease, but instead he did something much more impressive. He pressed his feet back against the wall and threw himself forward into the air causing Becca to gasp. She had a split second to panic that he was going to break some bones hitting the floor until he grabbed one of the ropes. His back hit the web, and he let go, tucking into a roll and somersaulting twice before pushing on the web and landing in a crouch right at the bottom. Becca stared at him open mouthed while he straightened up.

Holy shit. Becca snapped her teeth together. That was like a scene out of a damn action movie. What the hell were they teaching people in the army?

Despite being thoroughly awed, Becca merely noted, "Well, that's one way to muss up your hair."

"Yeah, I thought I'd make it more interesting." Steve ran a hand over his hair, putting the few tousled strands back into place. In truth, his hair had survived the tumble with frustrating neatness.

Becca rolled her eyes. "Show off," she muttered, but not without fondness. After all, she had encouraged him.

They followed the new corridor, backtracking whenever they hit a wrong turn. Becca chose a new wall to follow each time this happened. She wasn't sure whether doing so helped them any, but it did keep her from getting turned around when they had to choose a new route.

"Which way do you think?" questioned Becca after they returned to a five-way crossroads. She had wandered along without asking him to pick so far, so it seemed fair that she offer at least once.

Steve shrugged. "Up to you. I'll follow your lead."

Knowing Steve was giving her free reign put on pressure, but Becca didn't mind. It only made her more determined. She examined the three untried paths and selected the middle one.

It was soon apparent that Becca had chosen the correct path as it brought them to the next obstacle. A block of stairs took them up to a platform that was once meant to become a subway station, broken up by four thick columns. Of course, Becca highly doubted that "Magma Station," the name set on the back wall, would have been the designated stop name. Although the walls had been covered with gleaming white tiles, the floor of the platform glistened deep red. At least, it was all red until they reached the top step.

Suddenly, black squares popped up on the red. The squares were wide enough to stand on and, as far as Becca could tell, scattered at random across the floor with swathes of red in between. Becca leaned out around a wall that had been set up where the train might have come in and saw another set of stairs at the other end.

"Looks like we're supposed to cross on the squares," Steve observed.

"I guess. I think it's supposed to be like The Floor is Lava." Becca pointed at the "Magma Station" sign. "But what's stopping someone from –"

The moment Becca's foot touched the red a sound like a hundred nails being dragged across a chalkboard echoed across the platform in a loud shriek. She jerked her food back and rubbed her ears. There was no way she wanted to hear that sound ever again. Ever.

"Maybe we should stick to the squares," suggested Steve.

"Seconded. You go. I'll be right behind." Even if Steve had bigger feet, Becca trusted him to avoid accidently setting off the nails again more than she trusted herself.

Steve examined the platform. He stepped decisively onto the closest black square and next onto the square off to the right. When Steve lifted his foot from the first square, Becca watched it vanish in front of her. What the hell? Steve had to stretch his legs to reach the third square, but he was able to make it without having to jump. The second square disappeared behind him.

"Wait!" Becca yelped.

"Going too fa –" Steve's dry remark broke off when he noticed that the squares were gone. "That's going to be a problem."

"Only a little one." There was no way Becca was going to be able to get across on leftover squares without the nails sounding again.

"Maybe they'll come back when I get to the stairs?"

"Or maybe they won't. Plus that'll double our time and… and you know what? Make some room." Becca sprung off of her heels and took a running step onto a square that brought her slightly closer to Steve.

"I don't think we're both going to –" Becca leapt off the square and landed next to Steve on one foot. Her body continued to tilt forward, the momentum carrying her too far. She would have put her other foot down on the red if Steve hadn't grabbed her waist, steadying her. "– fit."

Becca held onto the arm around her waist to balance herself and smiled. "You were saying?"

"I was saying it's the one on your left next."

"That's what I thought."

They worked out a system in which Steve would move to a square first, since he took up more space, with Becca hopping on beside him. Becca usually kept to standing on one foot or the tips of her toes until she had the square to herself. This would have made crossing without incident difficult, but Steve steadied her when she wobbled or landed close to an edge.

The times when Steve caught her and pulled her close, Becca experienced a warm, fluttering sensation in her chest that wasn't entirely due to another successful landing. Becca knew that Steve wasn't interested in her and she was _trying_ to push her feelings aside, but it wasn't easy when she had a gorgeous man wrapping a strong arm around her, making sure she landed safely before teasing her about another "graceful" landing with a ridiculously adorable grin.

"That was really nice," Steve commented as Becca clung to his jacket to avoid teetering forward and stepping on his toes. "I think you almost nailed the landing that time."

"If your feet weren't so huge, this wouldn't be an issue," Becca shot back. Steve just grinned. Ugh.

Reaching the stairs was almost a relief. The remaining back squares faded, leaving the floor glowing red until the next maze-goers came along. Even if making it across the platform had been a minor trial, it felt good to be on the other side.

"All right. Yay team." Becca held out a fist toward Steve. He glanced at her fist and looked back up, eyebrows knitting together. "Come on, fist bump. Don't leave me hanging." Steve made a fist and lifted it so she could complete the gesture. Not the most enthusiastic fist bump Becca had ever participated in, but she'd take it.

A new corridor stretched out from the stairs. Becca touched the stone wall on her right as they followed it. At an intersection that offered three paths to travel down, they ran into other people for the first time. The couple warned them off the direction Becca would have chosen and took the middle path. If Steve and Becca reached another obstacle at the same time as the couple they'd have to wait, so Becca took the left one.

The maze twisted and turned around them, but Becca thought that they must be making good time. Really, for all she knew, they could be hopelessly lost. Yet, she wasn't at all bored, so she didn't mind. It wasn't as if they were navigating the maze in silence. Becca had discovered that Steve seemed more animated when she was talking about herself, so she tended to stick to stories in her life, ones that she considered entertaining.

Sometimes, however, Steve volunteered information about himself, about being a kid in Brooklyn, going to college for art. He gave her enough that Becca didn't feel as though he was hiding his life from her. Granted, there was a vague gap in time, a gap that Becca had taken to thinking of as "The Army Days," but she refused to press him about it. She had already told Steve that he was free to talk about that period if and when he wanted to. Asking any more would have been unfair of her.

From a corridor that had become considerably narrower as they walked through, they entered an open space. The floor was a perfect circle. The walls offered five new paths. In the center of the room was a metal disk raised off the floor by a few inches. The railings spaced evenly on the disk reminded Becca of a merry-go-round. This had to been the next obstacle. Maybe it would direct them to the correct path?

Becca approached the disk and stepped up onto it between two of the railings. Etched on the disk was a six-pointed star.

"Looks like we made it to the center," said Steve. He had remained on the ground, leaning on the edge of a railing.

"Yup." Becca unzipped the outside pocket of her bag and took out the stopwatch. "One hour and eight minutes," she announced. "Let's both try to remember that."

"Got it."

Becca tucked the stopwatch back in the bag. As she did so, her knuckles brushed against the familiar shape of a prescription bottle, put away in the main pocket. Her hand lingered there. One hour and eight minutes, plus another twenty-ish between this place and her apartment. Not enough time that she should be taking her meds. Also, she would rather not take them in front of Steve.

"So what do you think?"

Becca started. "What? Oh." She zipped her bag shut. "This looks kind of like a merry-go-round, right?"

"That's what I was thinking," Steve agreed. "I'll try giving you a push."

Becca grasped the railings closest to her and braced herself. Steve gripped the railing he'd been leaning on and pushed. The disk didn't move. Steve frowned. He set his feet against the ground and tugged at the railing. The disk emitted a sound like grinding metal, but refused to budge.

"Okay, Muscles, don't break it," Becca chided. "Maybe I'm not supposed to be on it." She hopped off.

Steve attempted to spin the disk again. No movement. Becca joined him, thinking there might be some kind of sensor or someone behind a camera waiting for everyone to touch the disk before flipped a switch. Nothing.

"Maybe it's not like a merry-go-round." Becca stepped back onto the disk. "Maybe there's a clue on here that we're missing."

"Could be." Steve stepped up between the adjacent railings.

The disk emitted a whir like the engine of a car revving up and began to spin. Becca clutched the railings, unsteady for a second at the unexpected movement. She tried to keep her eyes on the path they had come from, but as the speed of the disk increased, she got dizzy. Rather than take a chance on throwing up, she shut her eyes and waited.

When the disk stopped completely, Becca opened her eyes. Every path looked the same, so she had no idea which was which. She sank down and sat on the disk to try and settle her stomach. She took several deep breaths through her nose.

"You all right?" Steve crouched down to her level.

"I will be." Becca let out a breath. "I think this was supposed to confuse us. Dirty, but effective."

Steve pointed to one of the paths. "That's the one we came from."

Becca craned her neck to see the path. "You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"You… you are unbelievable," Becca laughed. "And I mean that in the best way."

"You got us this far. I figured I could help out this once."

"Okay, help me off this thing and we'll call it square."

Steve jumped down off the disk and extended a hand. Becca scooted to the edge of the disk. She took his hand and slid off the edge and onto her feet. She staggered causing Steve to press his other hand to her lower back.

"Do you want to sit back down?" Steve asked.

"No. No, I'm good." She had needed a second to regain her balance, but the dizziness was fading. "Sorry. Didn't quite stick the landing on that one either."

"That's all right. I'm used to it." Becca smacked Steve's arm. His blue eyes sparked with laughter. "Good to know you're feeling better."

Becca's tongue pressed against the back of her teeth, but she didn't let it pass her lips.

"Much." Steve let her go. Becca tugged on her ponytail, making it tighter, and glanced between the remaining paths. "So these are all fair game."

"Looks like."

Becca chewed on her lip. There was no sense in spending too long thinking it over. Any of the paths could be correct. She nodded toward the one directly in front of them. "How's this one sound?"

"Whatever you pick, I'm following."

"Your trust is appreciated, but probably misplaced." Becca folded her arms. "I tend to make it all up as I go."

"I know." Steve touched her shoulder, nudging her forward. "That's what I like about you."

Becca flushed and shook her head, but couldn't hold back a smile. Steve could go from teasing her to playing nice faster than anyone she had ever met.

"You are ridiculous," she murmured. She walked towards the chosen path with Steve at her side.

His eyebrows rose. "I'm ridiculous?"

"Yup."

"_I'm_ ridiculous?"

"Mhmm." Steve opened his mouth to make a comment, but Becca stopped and put a finger up to his lips. "Hush. We're ridiculous together." She lowered her finger. "So are you with me or what?"

Steve set his hands on his hips and looked down at her with an expression that she was pretty sure was an attempt at severity but was failing to break from something warmer. Becca tipped her head toward the path and winked. He let out a breath that was nearly a laugh, glanced at his feet, and looked back up at her.

"I'm with you."

"Good. Then let's kick this place's ass."

At one hour and forty-two minutes, Becca liked to think they did.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Look at these two working as a team. A ridiculous team. **

**Sadly, The Tunnels (like The Great Z-scape) is not a place that exists. However, there are abandoned subway tunnels you can visit. The Mole People are also a real urban legend. Don't ask me exactly how or why the legend got started, but it _did_ start after Steve's time. That much I can tell you. **

**Something big is coming up next chapter. I hope y'all are excited because I am. Many thanks to all you lovely readers! **


	8. Captain Who?

There was nothing good on TV. Becca flipped vainly through the channels, hoping to find a show that would keep her entertained enough to make it through lunch. Otherwise, it was back to reruns on Netflix. She took another bite of her veggie wrap, an unusually light meal but she was going out with a couple of friends for an early dinner and drinks. _Law &amp; Order: SVU_, _Family Guy_, _Click_, sports, sports news, more sports. Come on.

"And that's another goal for –"

"– three eggs and one –"

There had to be something halfway decent on.

"Oh, that dress. It's –"

"– with Captain America making –"

"– put that together and –"

Wait. Becca flipped back to the History Channel. Text in the corner of the screen identified the program as _Captain America: The First Superhero_.

" – started as a tactic to get the people of America to buy bonds to support the war effort set the stage for the greatest war hero of all time."

Becca stared at the screen, which showed Captain America surrounded by a group of soldiers all of whom seemed to be listening intently to the hero. He had on a tight suit with a star sewn onto the chest. Although the picture was black and white, Becca recalled seeing the same outfit in a long ago history class drawn in red, white, and blue. She also thought she remembered some kind of mask or helmet, but Captain America wasn't wearing one in this reel.

Except this couldn't be Captain America because it was definitely Steve.

"I remember being in the Hydra camp," recollected an elderly man identified as Private Arnold Kowalski. "And he showed up saying he was going to get us all out. And we were all, 'who is this guy?' you know?" The picture changed to Steve/Captain America pouring over a map. "Someone asked him, and he just said, 'Captain America.' And I remember thinking, 'What the hell kind of name is that?' But he said he would get us out and he did."

Maybe this was one of those programs that didn't have actual footage, so the History Channel hired actors to recreate scenes. Becca rubbed her jaw. Steve never mentioned that he had done any acting, but he could have. He might not want to bring it up because the show wasn't a big movie deal or a popular TV program. Still, being in the army and all, she would have thought he'd be proud to get to play Captain America.

Now that she was watching this, Becca recalled that her U.S. History teacher in high school had made a big lesson plan out of Captain America, but, like most historical figures, he had been quickly forgotten after the class ended. She remembered some vague details, but not his face, that was for sure.

Steve's face, however, was perfectly clear because she was looking at it. He even had the same hair cut up until Wednesday. He must have filmed this recently. Being on leave, Steve had a lot of spare time, so that much made sense. They should do something to celebrate. She thought this was a big enough deal to merit drinks at the very least.

"Yes, that was a Hydra camp in Krossberg." The new speaker was Agent Peggy Carter. This footage had a yellowish tinge that marked it as being recorded in an earlier decade. "Steve, that is, Captain Rogers –" Steve… Rogers? Becca frowned. "– was a good person, apart from being an excellent soldier. He saved a lot of men that day. He saved a lot of men throughout the war."

Becca's first thought was that the yellowing of the image was actually an effect and Agent Carter was now talking about Steve, but why have people acting out being interviewed? And why talk about the actor playing Captain America? It wasn't like he was famous. Unless…

Steve/Captain America picked up a compass with a picture of Agent Carter tucked inside and shut it. He glanced at the camera, his eyes momentarily flashing a familiar expression of embarrassment.

"_Captain America_ will return in a moment."

What if Captain America had a grandson that had been named after him? Becca didn't remember anything about Captain America having kids, much less grandkids, but it was possible. Maybe the whole situation had been kept quiet? Having a child without getting married was a huge scandal in those days. The government wouldn't want to tarnish the reputation of their superhero, especially since she was pretty sure he had died during the war. They might have put the child in witness protection.

Becca considered that angle as she chewed another bite of her wrap. But wouldn't people know now? Giving Steve the same name wasn't exactly subtle nor was putting him on TV. Plus, there was bound to be at least one person in the army who was a huge Captain America fan. Someone would find out. Then again, maybe people did know, and she was blowing this all out of proportion. History was not her forte.

Instead of speculating further, Becca took out her phone and ran a Google search on "Captain America Steve Rogers."

_Error 199999. _

Refreshing the page only gave her the same error message, so Becca tried a search on "Captain America."

_Error 199999. _

Great. Becca smacked her phone against her hand. Technology never worked when she needed it. She refreshed the page, which had no effect, and attempted "Steve Rogers." The same error message loaded. Becca huffed in frustration and googled "Error 199999." This time she got a list of suggested pages, detailing various error messages and how to get rid of them. However, she didn't see anything about the particular error affecting her phone.

"Fuck this," Becca mumbled. There was one person who would have the answers. She called Steve.

"_Hello."_

"Hello, hello. How's it going?"

"_I'm doin' all right. How are you?_"

"Good." Becca turned the TV volume down, but left it on.

"_You found the next place already?"_

"Not yet." Becca wondered how to best phrase her question. Asking if he was related to Captain America seemed too abrupt. She should lead up to it. "I actually called because, um, have you done any acting at all? Possibly in the last year?"

There was a pause. When Steve spoke, his tone was more cautious.

"_Why are you asking?"_

He was hedging, but Becca had already started down this road so she was going to follow through.

"Well, because I am currently staring at your face on my television," she explained. "The History Channel is showing this program on Captain America, and either I am looking at you or Captain America is your doppelganger. Or you are a vampire and I have discovered your secret, in which case I want in." Becca laughed.

Silence.

Becca bit on the inside of her lip, stifling her laughter. On the screen, Steve/Captain America had his back to the camera. He gripped a round shield, tilted back so it was plainly visible. The image jerked and focused on the shield. There was star painted on the center like the one on his suit. Bits of information were coming back to her. They had called him another name besides Captain America at first, one that had to do with the star.

"_I can explain, but I'd like to do it in person_."

Wow, this sounded serious. Maybe Steve really was the grandson of Captain America. That would be kind of awesome.

"Uh, sure. Like, now?"

"_If you're busy, I –"_

"No, that's fine. I'm breaking for lunch anyway," she assured him. More to the point, Becca really wanted to know what was so important that Steve felt he couldn't say it over the phone. If it was big, he probably wouldn't want to be at a place where they might be overheard. "Would you like to come over? Ally won't be home for a few hours. Or if you want me to come to you that's fine, too."

"_I'll come to you if that's all right." _

"Yeah, of course." Becca prodded the end of her wrap. "Did you eat lunch already? 'Cause I can make you something."

"_I'm fine, but thanks." _His voice sounded a little less edgy.

"Mhmm. I'll see you in a bit then."

"_Bye, Becca."_

"Bye."

Becca hadn't been expecting a reaction that was quite so mysterious. Neither was she sure exactly when Steve would be arriving as she had no idea where he lived.

With the remainder of the wrap jammed into her mouth, Becca went to dump her dishes into the dishwasher. She hurriedly changed into actual clothes and took her meds so she wouldn't look and act like a mess. Once that was finished, Becca jumped back onto the couch and turned the volume up on the TV. Until Steve got here, she was finding out as much as she could about Captain America.

* * *

Some of the stairs were missing. That wasn't true, but Steve felt as though the walk up to Becca's apartment was taking considerably less time than it had a week ago. It was just his nerves.

Becca had been bound to stumble onto the truth. There was a point, back when they had first begun their "adventures," during which Steve considered writing off anything she found as coincidence until he faced the world as Captain America again. It would be easy. The truth sounded bonkers, and he knew it. Becca had proven the fact by drawing the conclusion that he was "acting" as Captain America. Once everyone believed he was Captain America, there wouldn't be a need to convince Becca.

That point quickly passed. Becca deserved to hear him say it. Steve had hesitated, uncertain of the outcome, but her phone call told him that it was time. Despite the nerves, it was also a relief. Becca might like to tease, but beneath all that she had been nothing but nice. For all her whirlwind personality, she'd given him something steady and reliable so he didn't feel quite so lost. Steve cared about her, and he wouldn't be much of a friend by keeping a secret this big.

On the drive over, Steve had found himself going over the four potential outcomes of his confession.

One: Becca accepted the truth and agreed to keep his secret. This was the outcome Steve was hoping for. He didn't expect Becca to accept the truth immediately. She would need to be convinced, but he was prepared to put in the effort.

Two: Becca accepted the truth and agreed to keep his secret, but accidently let it slip. Steve had enough faith in Becca that he didn't think she'd go behind his back to tell all of her friends. If it slipped out, as he had told Nick, Steve doubted that Becca's friends would believe her. If they did, then people would know. Steve was prepared to deal with the situation should that happen.

Three: Becca didn't believe the truth but chose to continue their friendship regardless. Steve considered this the least likely scenario. Becca might think he was joking at first, but when he pressed the matter, it would stop sounding like a joke. Rather than ignoring the situation, which would be about the only way to remain friends, Steve thought outcome four had a better chance of following.

Four: Becca didn't believe the truth, decided he was crazy, and they never saw each other again. Of all potential reactions, this would be the hardest for him. Steve couldn't blame Becca if she reacted this way. Had anyone told him when he joined the army that one day he'd wake up in the future with his body not having aged a day, Steve would have felt the same. But it was the truth, and Becca should know even if it meant losing her.

The same four scenarios rolled through his head as Steve reached the landing on Becca's floor. Steve would do his best to convince her. That's all he could do. He knocked on her door, which swung immediately open.

"Hi," Becca greeted. "Come on in."

"Thanks."

Steve stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket. He glanced at the TV. The screen was black. At least he wasn't going to have to watch himself. Steve drew a folder, bent almost in half, from an inside pocket before hanging the jacket on an empty hook. Becca's eyes flicked towards the folder, but she didn't ask about it.

"Can I get you a drink or anything?" she offered.

"I'm all right, but thank you," Steve declined.

"Sure. Let's sit then."

Becca walked over to the couch. She picked the same end she had on his last visit, only this time she crossed her legs and sat facing the other end of the couch. Steve followed her over and took the empty cushion opposite. He set the folder on the coffee table. Again Becca gave the folder a fleeting look.

"So what'd you want to tell me?"

Steve took a deep breath. "Becca, what I have to say… It's going to sound a little crazy, but it's the truth."

"Okay." Instead of looking worried, Becca gave him an encouraging smile. "Whatever it is, I'll listen."

So far everything was going as smooth as it possibly could, but Steve's voice seemed to have stopped working. It felt like there was a lump in his throat, blocking the words from coming out. Steve stared down at his lap, curling his fingers into fists. His knuckles stood out bright white against the rest of his hand. A few words and this could all be over. The thought suffocated him with unanticipated swiftness.

"Steve, are you…" Steve looked up at Becca. Concern had settled in her wide, brown eyes, but the encouraging smile lingered. "Are you related to Captain America?"

The question unclogged his throat. Becca was close, close enough that he felt better about saying, "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Becca's nose wrinkled. "How can you be 'not exactly' related to someone?"

"Because I am Captain America." Regardless of how Becca took his words, Steve found a sliver of relief in finally telling someone.

Becca stared at him. The corner of her mouth twitched like she was expecting him to tell her it was a joke, but when he didn't, her lips thinned in confusion.

"You mean, like, you're going to become the new Captain America?" she questioned. "Like you're going to carry on his legacy or something?"

Steve was prepared for a lot of questions, so he wasn't dismayed when Becca didn't comprehend what he was saying.

"No. I'm Captain America. The only Captain America. At least as far as I know."

"_The_ Captain America?" Becca's eyebrows knit. "From World War II, Captain America?"

"Yes."

"The one that died?"

"Yes." Becca crossed her arm, looking at him in disbelief. Steve caught his error, shaking his head. "No. I didn't die."

"Steve, even if Captain America didn't die, he'd be like… ninety."

"Ninety-four."

"Whatever," Becca huffed. "The point is that you're way too young to be Captain America."

"I know it looks that way," said Steve patiently. "But only because I was twenty-six when I was frozen."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Steve decided that giving her a full explanation was a better tactic. "I can't explain the exact science, but I can tell you what I know. Hear me out. Please."

Becca put a hand up to her face, rubbing her temple. She took in a breath and blew it out while examining him like she was seeing a stranger sitting across from her. Steve willed her accept his request.

"You're serious?" she asked finally.

"Yes."

Becca eyed him skeptically, but threw up her hands. "Fine. Fine, go ahead."

"The serum I was given, it did more than make me stronger and fix all my health problems. When I crashed in the Arctic, I froze." Steve remembered the pain of it, ice burning his skin as he lay there waiting to die. The burning had gradually numbed while Steve had imagined the dance that he'd never have with Peggy until he drifted off. "Only the serum didn't let me die. It reacted with the ice and it… preserved me," he explained, repeating the same phrase that had been used when Nick explained the situation to him.

Steve looked down at his enhanced body. At first, it hadn't even felt like his body, but he'd grown used to it. He'd saved a lot of people with his gifted strength. He looked back up to Becca. She was tugging on a corner of the pillow tucked by her side, but otherwise appeared to be listening attentively. Whether Becca believed him, Steve couldn't yet say.

"This organization, S.H.I.E.L.D., found me a little over a month ago and woke me up. I was asleep for almost seventy years. It was like being in a coma. I didn't have dreams. When I closed my eyes there was ice. Then, I was opening them again, and the ice was gone. The only difference is that my body didn't age. The ice kept me exactly as I was in 1945."

"If we have a serum like this, one that can preserve people…" said Becca once Steve had paused long enough to make it clear that he was finished. "Why doesn't anyone know about it? The government couldn't keep it secret for that long, not if people already saw the effects."

"Dr. Erskine was the only one who knew the exact formula. He was killed by Hydra the day they gave me the serum."

"I'm sorry." Becca blinked like she had surprised herself by speaking. Steve smiled. He had gotten through to her, maybe only by a hair but that was something.

"That's all right. It was a long time ago."

Becca pulled the pillow into her lap, still fiddling with the same corner. "You're obviously convinced of what you're saying. And you don't seem… crazy. I mean, this sounds crazy, but I've been around you for going on a month now and you're…" Becca shrugged. She flicked at the corner. "What's in the folder?"

Steve picked up the folder and offered it to her. "It's my file. From S.H.I.E.L.D."

Before driving here, Steve had skimmed through the folder, having read its contents shortly after he had woken up. Becca didn't need to see everything. There was information of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s that wasn't his to share with a civilian. Steve had selected the best evidence from the remaining documents, leaving the rest in a pile at the apartment.

Becca took the folder. "What's the 'G' stand for?" she asked, surveying the front cover.

"Grant."

"Mmm," Becca hummed as she opened the folder.

Steve sat quietly and allowed Becca time to browse through the documents. She picked them up, reading over the information. Occasionally she brought a paper close to her face, squinting at it and then holding it out in front of her as if the distance might prove its authenticity.

The folder might have been helping. Becca was peering over everything with such a serious expression that it was difficult to tell. She hadn't kicked him out. Steve thought that was a pretty good sign.

When Becca's lips curved into a soft smile, it was such an unexpected change that Steve abruptly asked, "What?"

Becca took a picture out of the folder, which was resting on the pillow, and flipped it so that he could see.

"You?"

It was a photograph of him before the serum. He was in his training gear, the large helmet swallowing his head. He was standing at attention. The straightness of his body made him seem even skinnier than his already thin frame. He looked like a kid pretending to be a soldier. Steve winced. Becca must think that he looked absurd.

"Yeah," Steve admitted. "Before the serum."

"I don't know what you're wincing about. I think he's cute." Becca flipped the picture back towards her. "Looks like an absolute sweetheart, but, like, secretly a tough guy, too."

Heat rose in Steve's cheeks. Fortunately, Becca took out another picture, holding the two side-by-side, and didn't notice. Women had called Steve "cute" before, but always in the way that meant he reminded them of a little kid. Becca hadn't made it sound like that kind of cute. He sort of liked the way she said it.

Becca set the pictures in the folder and flipped back through the documents. She folded her hands beneath her chin, surveying the paper in front of her.

"Date of birth?" she quizzed.

"July 4, 1918."

"Parents?"

"Sarah and Joseph Rogers."

"Address?"

"My old address?" Becca nodded. "14047 Brooklyn Street."

"Favorite food?"

Steve didn't remember that being in there. "Apple cake."

"Commanding officer?"

"Colonel Phillips."

Becca lifted a page. "Why'd you crash the plane?"

"There were weapons on board aimed a number of American cities. If I hadn't put it down, a lot of people would have died."

Becca shut the folder and put it on the coffee table. "Well, you know what's in the folder. I'll give you that." She shifted uncertainly. "But pictures can be photoshopped, documents made to look official."

"They're real, I promise." Although Steve had sworn to be patient, he was beginning to feel frustrated.

Becca sighed. "You realize how totally nuts this sounds, right?"

"I know."

"I'm not on some weird reality show am I?"

"No."

Becca sighed again. "Do you have the suit? Or the shield?"

"Not exactly." There had been no need for either, so S.H.I.E.L.D. had them. If he asked Nick, Steve would probably get them quickly. S.H.I.E.L.D. moved fast. "But I could get them."

"That's okay." Becca turned the pillow around and worried another corner. "I don't know, Steve. This… this is something that happens in movies and comic books."

Steve had one last card to play, if she accepted it. "What if I showed you?"

"Showed me?"

"Some of what I can do."

Becca gripped the pillow as if she was readying herself to throw it at him. "You are not trying to lift my furniture."

"Not here." Steve had searched for a place they weren't likely to be seen after promising himself that he would tell her the truth. "Close by."

"Where exactly?"

"About twenty minutes drive south. Off the highway, along the water."

Becca slowly loosened her hold on the pillow. "I guess, I guess if you think you're Captain America you wouldn't do anything… bad. I want to still trust you." She tipped her head back. "Okay. I can't believe I'm saying this, but okay. _But_ I'm texting my friend Adam to let him know where I'm going and telling him to expect a call from me in the next hour."

"All right." If it made her Becca feel safe, then Steve was willing to agree to about anything. "But if you wouldn't mind not telling him who I am. I'd like to avoid the attention for now."

"Well, I don't think he'd believe even if I told him," noted Becca while using her phone. "But don't worry. I'm just saying that I'm going with you, not Captain America." She got to her feet. "Lemme get my things. Then we'll go."

Steve stood as Becca wandered out of the living room with her attention still on the phone in her hand, muttering under her breath about "errors." This was going to be his last chance to convince her. He got his jacket from the coat rack and tucked the folder back inside before pulling it on.

Things could have gone worse. Becca seemed uncertain, which was better than a flat out rejection. She might be going with him in part with the expectation of seeing him fail, in which case he would have to admit that he wasn't Captain America. However, Steve knew what he could do and that would play in his favor because part of Becca wanted to believe him. Had he gotten a different sense, Steve wouldn't have offered to show her anything past his file.

Becca reappeared with her purse and took one of the jackets from the nearly full coat rack. They left her apartment in silence. Steve presumed that Becca would have more questions, but either she was lost in thought or electing to ignore him. She could close herself off better than Steve would have believed.

Steve drove them out of the city. It wasn't long before he took a turn off of the highway onto a dirt road. There was a sign next to the road with a smiling sun and the words "Camp Sandy Hook." The road led to a summer camp. While the place had been empty when he walked through, closed for the spring, Steve wasn't taking chances. He came to a stop halfway down the road.

"We're getting off."

The bike wobbled as Becca slid off the back. Steve got off and rolled the bike off the road and into the trees. Becca didn't move from the road. She surveyed the woods with trepidation mounting behind her eyes.

"It's this way," said Steve, trying to make his tone sound as unthreatening as possible. "A short walk straight through. Leads right to the water, like I said."

Becca didn't budge. "Are there people at that camp?"

"No. At least, I don't think so."

"So basically we're alone in the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah." This looked bad, but Steve didn't have another option that was a relatively secure location. He couldn't bring her to a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility because Nick has made his opinion on Becca clear. "I needed someplace pretty secure, but I'm not gonna make you come with me. If you want, we can go back."

Becca ground a heel into the dirt, biting on the corner of her lip. "Walk."

Steve turned from her and walked into the trees. He heard Becca following him, snapping small branches and rustling through leaves rotting from last fall. Once he glanced over his shoulder to see Becca watching him carefully with an arm hidden in her purse. Undoubtedly she was clutching her phone or a concealed weapon. The back on his neck instinctively prickled, but Steve ignored it.

The tree line ended a few feet from the water's edge. There was a No Fishing sign set near the water, but vines had twined around it, marking it by a few years at least. A barge puffed steadily along farther down, but apart from the large vessel the water was empty of boats. Neither did Steve spot any people along this bank. The bank opposite was too far away to be a concern.

Steve took off his jacket and hung it over a low branch.

"What're you gonna do?" Becca asked from a spot under a nearby tree.

"Run."

"I've seen you run."

"That was more of a jog."

Becca gave him a doubtful look, but shrugged and leaned back against the tree.

Steve moved out onto the clear ground and let out a long breath. Then, he began to run. He started off steady, but quickly pushed himself to move faster. Muscles, long unused, contracted painfully the harder Steve ran. He pushed through the pain, taking deep gulps of air as the world around him blurred. Adrenaline surged through him, and Steve grinned. It felt good to be able to run again.

Steve was tempted to keep running until he was in danger of being spotted, but Becca was waiting behind him. He skidded, his feet tearing up clumps of grass and dirt, and pivoted. He sprinted back in the direction he had come from, arms pumping at his sides and sweat beading along his temples.

When Becca appeared his vision, Steve slowed gradually to a jog before stopping all together. He set his hands on his hips and breathed. He wasn't in peak condition anymore. Once he was able, he needed to start up running again. Still, Steve had run faster than any other man could.

Becca gaped at him. Her hand was no longer in her purse but hovering in front of her mouth.

"Oh my god," she gasped, eyed wide with wonder. "That was… holy shit. You are _fast_."

Steve chuckled. "You should see me on a good day."

"How…" Becca shook her head like she was clearing out her thoughts. "Okay, okay so you're fast. Really, really fast. But that doesn't… that can't… Bend that." She pointed at the No Fishing sign.

The sign was attached to a thick metal pole buried in the ground. Steve went over to it with Becca trailing him. He should be able to bend the pole and bend it back. If there was a dent, Steve thought it wouldn't matter. It didn't look like people came out here much anyway.

"Stand back," Steve ordered. Should the pole break, pieces of it could go flying. Becca shuffled back obediently.

Steve grabbed the pole in both hands right beneath the sign. He put a foot against the bottom of the pole to keep it from coming out of the ground, set his teeth, and _pulled_. Muscles in his arms bulged. The metal whined under the pressure and, inch by inch, it gave. Steve bent the top of the pole until a fissure appeared. The sign now pointed close to horizontal. He let go and stepped back.

Becca crept forward. Her cheeks were pale as she touched the fissure, moving as if she were in a daze or about to collapse. Steve prepared himself to catch her if she fainted.

"It's a dream," Becca whispered. "I'm dreaming."

"No, you're not dreaming."

She ignored him. "Maybe…"

Becca lifted her hands and gazed at them. Her fingers curved inward and pressed into her palms. Her hands trembled with the effort of making her nails bite deeper into the flesh. She was going to make herself bleed.

"Stop." Steve gripped Becca's wrists. She stopped, but she kept her confused gaze on her hands.

"Maybe I took too…" Becca trailed off, staring at the red crescents cut into her palms.

Steve's concern grew. Maybe this had all been a mistake. He wanted her to know the truth, not have a breakdown.

"Look at me, Becca." Becca blinked up at him, eyes glazed. "This isn't a dream."

"It's not?"

"No."

"And… and it's not some kind of elaborate joke?"

"No."

"You're Captain America?"

Steve nodded. "I'm Captain America."

Becca frowned. Steve felt her wrists twitch in his hands, and he let her go. Becca dropped one of her hands, but the other she pressed lightly into the center of his chest. Her frown deepened when it didn't pass through and he remained as he was. Steve waited, unsure what to expect next.

"Well…" Becca lowered her hand. When she peered up at him, her eyes had regained some clarity. "I suppose this explains why you never text me." Steve burst out laughing causing Becca to look sheepish. "Well, I wondered."

"I just…" Steve shook his head. Of all the things for Becca to say after finally believing him, this was really something. However, Steve didn't want Becca to think that he was laughing at her, so he swallowed the rest of his laughter. "I haven't had any practice."

"We'll practice then. And the movies you haven't seen, we'll definitely have to make that a thing. Music, are you up on music? You have to hear…"

Becca rambled on about all the things he had missed, commenting various times throughout that he really ought to get a list started. Steve let her talk, glad to see her energy gradually returning. He had convinced her, and it didn't sound like Becca was planning to walk away from him any time soon. Actually, Steve wasn't sure when he was going to find time to sleep between all the catching up she was planning for him.

"Becca," Steve interrupted finally. Becca paused in the middle of an explanation of pizza rolls. "This all sounds great, but I have to ask you a favor."

"Shoot."

"Don't tell anyone that I'm Captain America."

"Oh no." Becca rolled her eyes. "I'm going to tell everyone you're Captain America because they will _totally_ believe me." She patted him on the arm. "Don't worry, Steve. Even though this is the coolest thing that's ever happened to me, it's not my secret to share."

"Thanks. Now I need to you move back again. I'm gonna fix this sign."

"Right." Becca shuffled back. "So this S.H.I.E.L.D., they're the only people who know about you?"

"Some of S.H.I.E.L. D." Steve grunted as he bent the sign back into place.

"Do you do top secret missions for them or something?"

"No. Not yet." Steve wiped his hands off on his pants. "I'm still figuring out what I'm going to do."

"What, so you just sit around all the time?" Becca questioned with incredulity.

Steve shrugged. "I go out sometimes. I go to the gym, take a walk. You met me in a park remember?"

"Yeah, but… on your own?"

"Not always. I'm not on my right own now," Steve pointed out.

For the second time, Becca caught him off guard with a hug. Her arms wrapped tightly around his chest, face buried near his shoulder. As before, he felt as though his body grew slightly lighter. Steve returned the hug, holding Becca to him.

"No, you're not." Becca looked up and flashed him a smile that made Steve suddenly and excruciatingly aware of how close she was pressed against him. "Fortunately for you, I am an expert at the twenty-first century, having lived it for most of my life, and have a very flexible schedule. If you ever want help with anything, you let me know."

"That's real nice of you, Becca. Thanks." Steve extracted himself from her arms with as much feigned casualness as he could muster.

"No problem. Just don't expect me to go all easy on you because you're an old guy," she warned.

"I won't."

They headed back into the woods with Steve picking out the path. Becca took out her phone to make a brief call to her friend to assure him that she was fine.

"Question," said Becca as she dropped the phone back in her purse.

"Sure."

"What were the dinosaurs like?"

Steve was actually glad that his status as Captain America didn't put Becca off from teasing him.

"I'm not _that _old."

"Was the transition from woolly mammoth to motorcycle hard for you?" Becca grinned when Steve gave her a sideways look. "Was your prom theme 'fire'?"

"I don't know. I didn't go to prom." The girl Steve had liked at the time had turned him down. He had spent the night in bed sketching them at the prom with her in the dress she had talked to her friends about all week. But Steve was too embarrassed to tell that to Becca. "I don't dance."

"What do you mean? You can't dance or you won't?"

"Can't."

Steve thought of Peggy, who had promised to show him how. He had yet to open her folder, to find out if she was still alive, but remembering her hurt less with each passing day. He would look when he got back to his apartment. He felt ready to know. Either way, it was too late for them. Someday another partner would show him.

"Hmmm." Becca inspected his feet. "Guess we'll have to see about that."

* * *

During the news the following morning, Steve's cell phone went off. He kept the phone charged, but it went unused since no one but S.H.I.E.L.D. had the number. Apart from one other person. Steve swiped up the phone, smiling at the familiar number.

"_Still Captain America?"_

With the basic knowledge an agent had given him on texting, Steve typed back.

"Last time I checked."

After a few seconds, the phone dinged again.

"_Then I guess we'd better start getting this texting thing nailed down."_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Well, it was only a matter of time before Becca found out. It's a great source of relief to both of them as Steve no longer has to keep a big secret and Becca no longer has so many questions about why Steve appeared to have lived under a rock. I was quite excited to write this chapter as it's the first big hurtle they cross over together (although make no mistake, it's the first of many). **

**I _think _I have all the correct numbers, dates, and facts about Steve from the MCU. If I dropped a year somewhere, apologies. There was conflicting research and math to be done. Bonus points to anyone who knew the significance of the number 199999.**

**While I would love to take credit for all of the Steve-is-old jokes, I heard "Was your prom theme 'fire'?" on _Two and a Half Men_ a looooooong time ago. For some reason, it stuck with me. **

**Finally, thanks for the continued support. Y'all are the best. **


	9. Swing It, Partner

"Rebecca?"

Becca discarded the magazine on the rounded table beside her. In place of the male nurse who had called her name at the last appointment three weeks ago stood a woman with dark curls and dazzling white teeth who was undoubtedly still in school. The change made no difference to Becca as long as she remained with Dr. Barrett.

"Right this way," beckoned the nurse, Megan, as her sticker covered nametag denoted.

Becca followed Megan out of the waiting room and through the busy hallways. Her nose filled with the scent of cleaning materials and underneath a riper scent that could not be pinpointed to an exact source other than the entirety of medical treatment centers. Despite two stays in hospitals, or perhaps because of them, the smell always made her feel mildly sick to her stomach.

"How's your neck feeling today, Rebecca?"

"With the meds? Fine," Becca replied. "And it's Becca, please. I'm only Rebecca when I'm in trouble with my parents."

Megan giggled as she ushered Becca into one of the rooms. Becca set her purse and jacket on an empty chair in the corner before hopping up on the examining table.

"I'm just gonna take your blood pressure and then we'll get you changed and take some x-rays," said Megan, setting down Becca's file on the examining table.

"Sure."

Becca pushed up the sleeve on her right arm and held it out so Megan could wrap the cuff around it. Since she had no idea what the numbers meant, Becca didn't even bother looking up at the gauge mounted on the wall. She expected Megan to jot down the number in her file and go wait outside while she changed, but Megan didn't leave.

"Hmmm," Megan hummed.

Megan let the air leak from the cuff and undid the velcro strap while Becca eyed the gauge herself, even though it was of no help. "Hmmm" didn't sound good. Becca turned from the gauge as Megan opened the file, trailing down the sheet with a pen.

"Your blood pressure is a little high today. Any idea why that might be?" Megan asked while writing down the offending number.

If her blood pressure was only a little high, then it wasn't an issue. Becca knew plenty of people who had blood pressure problems at some point. A slightly higher number wasn't dangerous.

"No," Becca lied. "It's probably the Oxy wearing off. I was going to ask Dr. Barrett to up my dosage again."

To Becca's relief, Megan nodded as she picked up the file. "I'll be right outside." She tapped the paper apron that Becca was to change into.

Becca gave a thumbs up to Megan's retreating back. Shit, that was close. Becca blew a breath out of her nose. The last appointment had gone well, better even than the appointment before it, so she'd assumed that everything would be fine. Becca stripped down to her underwear and pulled the apron over her arms. No, everything was still fine. She had made it fine. As long as Dr. Barrett didn't know, it would continue to go fine.

There was a moment yesterday when Becca thought she had made a serious error and was hallucinating because of it. Come on, Captain America back from the dead? But she wasn't hallucinating, nor was she dreaming. Steve, her friend Steve, was actually Captain America. An array of pictures of him found online as she had walked back up to her apartment had been the final confirmation. The error on her phone had mysteriously disappeared to allow this, but that was technology for you.

Becca was still wrapping her head around everything, but needing to come to terms with finding out a friend was a ninety-four year old superhero was much better than finding out that the medication she needed was making her hallucinate. And much cooler. Although, Becca had been semi-embarrassed to think she'd called their outings "adventures" when Steve had led rescue missions in dangerous warzones and punched Nazis in the face in full superhero attire. Steve pointed out that a lot of what they did was new to him so "adventure" applied, but she was going to avoid the word unless they went somewhere truly spectacular. And it was her turn to pick.

Thin blue slippers waited next to a chair. Becca jammed her feet into them and swung open the door. She tailed Megan to the x-ray room and lay back against the table, allowing the technicians to take x-rays of her spine while she considered places to go with Steve.

It would be best to stick with the city for now. Steve could drive them, but then the location wouldn't be a surprise. Neither was Becca inclined to borrow a friend's car since the last car she borrowed had been totaled in the crash. The place should be free or cheap. Going cool, new places was fun, but as it was becoming a regular occurrence, Becca couldn't afford to take chunks out of her budget. She really ought to spend some time coming up with a list of viable options for the future.

Given the all clear, Becca got up from the table and was returned to her room. Megan set off to get Dr. Barrett, and Becca retrieved her phone from her purse to search for a place to top the underground maze. She swung her legs back and forth, letting her heels thump on the table while she perused sites at random.

Then, Becca realized that Steve had already given her an idea, for the next place at least. To her delight she found there were two viable locations in New York and one of those locations was perfect. Becca grinned. This was not a place she would have chosen on her own, but she was excited to go with Steve.

Becca brought up Steve's messages from that morning and shot him a text.

"Feel like doing something fun Monday night?"

Becca went back to the internet, but after a minute the phone vibrated in her hand.

"_I try to avoid fun on Mondays."_

"Haha 8pm corner of Grand and West Broadway. Wear a tie."

A knock on the door made Becca put her phone on silent and place it beside her. "Come in."

Dr. Barrett entered, a balding, middle-aged man with glasses that were far too large for his thin face. He was forever pushing them up to the top of his nose only to have them slide right back down to the tip. Becca wasn't sure why he didn't get glasses that fit or spring for some contacts.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Becca," he apologized in a thick baritone.

"That's okay."

"How is the neck doing?"

"I'm still experiencing a lot of pain when the meds wear off," Becca relayed. "Apart from that, it's peachy."

"Pain level still the same?"

"Yeah, I'd say I'm still at an eight."

Dr. Barrett set her file on the table and opened it. On top were her x-rays. He pointed at the two once-fractured vertebrae, one at the base of Becca's neck and the other below it.

"Well, the good news is that your vertebrae are healing up. As you can see the fractures are almost completely gone." He indicated a tiny line towards the top of the first vertebrae, the only bit left to be healed.

"That is good," Becca agreed. Hopefully that meant she could get rid of her stupid neck brace.

Dr. Barrett fixed his glasses. "I'm gonna have a look, okay?"

"Yup."

Becca swept her hair over one shoulder to expose the back of her neck. Dr. Barrett gently prodded the damaged area. Without the Oxy, Becca would have been sobbing at added pain of his touch, but all she felt was mild discomfort, as though the doctor was examining a bruise.

"Yup, those vertebrae are healing up fine," Dr. Barrett reported. "But I still want you to sleep with that neck brace until our next appointment."

"All right," Becca sighed.

"So you're still experiencing pain. How about the numbness?" Dr. Barrett pressed against one of her shoulder blades.

Because of the nerves that were compressed or damaged, there were spots along Becca's back that felt like they were perpetually numbed with Novocain. Patches between the back of her shoulders and spine were devoid of feeling as well as pinpricks over her shoulder blades. Becca had been surprised by how little time it took her to get used to the numbness.

"The same," she confessed. "Although I don't even notice it."

"Mhmm." Dr. Barrett pushed up his glasses. "Well, it's only been two months since your accident. Still time for the nerves to heal. Let's have a listen to your heart."

Becca's skin prickled as the cold stethoscope touched it. She took several measured breaths. Hopefully her blood pressure would be the only thing off today. After listening in a few places, Dr. Barrett removed the stethoscope. He sat down on a rolling stool and picked up her file. Becca instinctively reached up and tugged the apron farther up around her shoulders.

"Your heart's a little up, and so, I was told, is your blood pressure," said Dr. Barrett, glancing over the first page in her file. Becca winced. "It's nothing dangerous, in fact they're both normal, healthy numbers, but unusual with Oxycodone unless it's wearing off. When was the last time you took your medication?"

"About…" Becca pressed a button on her phone. She ignored the blinking light which indicated a new message and checked the time. "Two hours ago. It's wearing off earlier. I was hoping I could have my dosage upped again."

Dr. Barrett flipped over a page, making a note. "Yes, I suppose that's what we'll need to do. Shame about the knee surgery. This is why we don't give children such strong pain medication anymore when we can help it. They build up a tolerance, and then if they need it later in life…" Dr. Barrett shook his head and lowered the folder. "Well, you know."

Becca did know. It was deeply frustrating that she had to keep taking a higher dosage of Oxy and, while waiting for approval for the new dosage, having to guess at how much of an extra tablet she could safely swallow. Plus, every time she took more Oxy, she had to take more Adderall to counteract its depressive effects. Nevertheless, Becca would rather take pills than become a huddled, useless ball of pain. Waking up in agony once a night was more than enough.

"Yeah. Here's hoping I heal up fast then."

Dr. Barrett nodded, his glasses sliding against the bridge of his nose. "And you're not experiencing any dizziness, drowsiness, feeling a bit down? You asked at our first meeting, but haven't brought it up since."

"Nope. I was probably getting used to the medication again those first few days." In truth, Becca hadn't brought it up because Dr. Barrett had suggested that if she was experiencing negative symptoms, he could put her on different medication, one he had admitted would be less strong. So she fixed the problem herself. "I feel fine."

"Good, good. I'm glad the medication is helping." Dr. Barrett closed the file and pushed up his glasses. "But I think it's time we had a little conversation about the future. Nothing to be worried about."

Becca smiled, but with trepidation. That's what doctors always said when there was something to be worried about.

"Okay."

"The pain you're experiencing means that that nerves haven't healed much yet, if at all, but that doesn't mean they won't," began Dr. Barrett. "It's only been two months. If your nerves are going to heal, we'd expect the pain to begin to lessen sometime between now and the six month mark, although it can take up to a year for them to fully recover. Of course, there is always the possibly that they will never heal, but there's no reason to lose hope yet."

Becca nodded. This had already been discussed. Becca had not given up hope that her nerves would heal and her life could go back to normal, but she was fully aware that they may not. If she was in pain after a year, what choice would she have but to learn to cope? Becca was fairly certain that she could do so. She was never one to give up a fight.

Dr. Barrett leaned forward. "If the nerves don't heal, you may very well have to take medication for the rest of your life, but it's time to start giving serious consideration to what you're going to do if your nerves show signs of repair. If this happens, even the slightest bit, I recommend you give me a call immediately and we start taking you off Oxycodone."

A spike of fear pierced through Becca's chest. "Take me off – but that's still a lot of pain. I need the medication."

"We would put you other pain medication to counter the effects," soothed Dr. Barrett.

"But you said the other medication wouldn't work as well," Becca stated. She tried to image functioning on even half the pain; what a wreck she'd be. And she would have to rely on people helping her all the time. No way.

"Other medication would not be as effective, it's true. But once the healing begins in earnest you would have only a month or so of discomfort. We discussed that Oxycodone can be addictive?"

"I'm not a drug addict," Becca snapped.

Dr. Barrett held up a placating hand. "I didn't say you were."

Becca licked her bottom lip, trying to calm down. If she acted defensive, Dr. Barrett might think she was addicted and make her switch medications. She would rather not have to start getting Oxy the same way she got her Adderall.

"I need it for the pain," Becca said quietly. "If the pain was gone, then I wouldn't need the medication. Once it's manageable, I'll drop the Oxy no problem."

Dr. Barrett gave her a considering look. "It's something to think about, Becca. I know it sounds difficult to switch medication and I'm sure you'd be fine if we didn't, but it's better not to take a chance. If you do have to take Oxycodone for the rest of your life, there is the risk of damage to your liver and respiratory system. I'd rather we begin to consider alternate options now. Think about it, all right?"

"All right," Becca agreed, wanting the conversation to be over.

"Good. I'll have this prescription filled for you." Dr. Barrett tapped her file against his leg. "Same pharmacy?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Dr. Barrett stood, inexorably lifting his glasses back to the top of his nose. "I'll see you back in a month."

"Uh huh. Bye."

Becca realized that she had dug her nails into the cushion of the examining table. She let go and rubbed her hands together. Drug addicts didn't _need_ prescription medication like she did. She was not a drug addict, and she certainly wasn't going to become one.

The smell of hospital assaulted her nose again, and Becca quickly changed back into her clothes. Once she was ready to leave, Becca picked up her phone. She checked Steve's message while walking towards the waiting room.

"_I take it the tie is my only hint?"_

After his only hint for the maze was to wear comfortable clothing? Becca tsked as she replied.

"You'd better believe it :p"

* * *

A tie wasn't much of a hint. Of all the places Steve would have guessed, not that any guess was likely to come close, none called for a tie. Steve knew that checking out the street corner Becca had given him would prove useless. The actual location would be in the surrounding area. He decided to just go along with Becca's suggestion and wear a tie, pastel blue with thin, diagonal off-white stripes over a white button-up shirt.

The night was unseasonably warm, spurring people outdoors to flood SoHo's sidewalks. Steve was used to the crowds and appreciated the anonymity they offered, but the constant flow was going to make Becca more difficult to spot. She wasn't short, but neither was she tall enough to stick out. At the designated corner, Steve picked through the tangle of people crossing the street and searched for her. He spotted Becca when she stepped away from the windows of a clothing store and waved at him. One look at her had Steve wondering if he should have done more than the tie.

Becca had dolled herself up for the occasion. Her hair was pinned back from her face, falling in long, smooth waves over her shoulders to curl up at the ends, not unlike a popular fashion of women in the 1940s. She wore a slim dark blue dress that had three buttons leading down her chest to the waist and draped loosely from there to right above her knees. Peeking out from the collar of her dress was a silver necklace with a leaf shaped pendant.

"Hey, you," Becca greeted with a red-lipped smile. "Ready for an amazing night?"

"Yeah. Uh, you look…" A number of flattering comments presented themselves at such speed that Steve was having trouble settling on one.

"Swell?" Becca suggested for him. She spun in her heels, the skirt of her dress swirling. "Thank you. I like the tie."

"Thanks."

"Mhmm." Becca looped an arm through his and directed him down West Broadway.

Regardless of the fact that they were friends, Steve was struck by the knowledge that he was finally walking down the street with a beautiful woman on his arm. And Becca was beautiful, all done up and radiating excitement. It made him both elated and slightly flustered to be beside her. He kept quiet as they walked, not wanting a stray word to shatter the moment. He very much doubted that Becca noticed as she was leading him on with all the eagerness of a kid heading for their favorite ice cream store.

Eventually, Becca steered them to the back of a short line waiting beside velvet ropes. She withdrew her arm to rifle through her clutch.

"You have a driver's license, right?"

"Yeah," Steve murmured.

Steve's attention was drawn to the bouncer at the front of the line waving people through. The man's dark hair was slicked back with a slight wave. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and tie, and when he raised an arm suspenders could be glimpsed beneath his jacket.

A lump settled in Steve's stomach. As his eyes slid over the line, the lump grew until it was pressing against his lungs and shortening his breath. The cut of the clothes, the hairstyles, the colors. There was a reason Becca's hair looked familiar. Because it was familiar. The majority of the people in front of him appeared to have stepped out of the 1940s, although missing a few details. Still, the effect was enough to jar him.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Steve ripped his gaze towards Becca. She was staring up at him with concern, lips curved into a small frown. She seemed to shift in his vision like the ground beneath them had grown unsteady.

"Where are we?" Steve asked, a thin rasp diminishing his voice.

Becca's shoulders hunched, as though in reaction to a mistake.

"It's a vintage club, Forties-themed. You mentioned that you can't dance, and I thought it would be mean of me to throw you into a rave so I thought…. I thought… The crowd's younger. There won't be anyone you know." Becca rotated the clutch between her hands. "I'm sorry," she said in a voice threaded with guilt. "We can go."

Steve swallowed thickly, glancing over the line again. Becca was right. The people here were too young for him to run into someone he had known. If this club had existed in his day, which it might not have, he'd never visited it. One night wouldn't be so bad; one chance to wind back the clock. Steve entertained the possibility that it might be good for him to have one last night to help let go. After all, the last thing he'd promised before crashing into the ice was a dance. Besides, Becca had been so excited to come and now appeared to be trying very hard not to look crushed.

"We can stay," Steve decided, despite his lingering sense of unease.

"Oh, no. That's okay." Becca shrugged. "There are plenty of other places we can go."

Steve caught Becca's wrist as she moved to duck under the velvet rope. "I'd like to stay."

Becca eyed him, a hopeful smile trembling as she attempted to suppress it. "Really? You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"If you feel like you need to leave, you'll tell me?"

"I will."

Steve released his hold on Becca's wrist, and she straightened, already leaning eagerly towards the front entrance again. With the line moving at a steady pace, they would not have long to wait.

"How'd I do, by the way?" Becca asked.

"On…?" Becca set her hands on her hips, lowered a shoulder, and posed. "Oh."

Steve swept his gaze over her. He was no expert on women's fashion, but he thought Becca had done well. The material of her dress looked a bit softer than the standard, rough linen. Her shoes weren't quite right; the heels were far too narrow. Apart from that, however, Steve saw no glaring flaws at a quick glance.

"Not bad."

Becca dropped the pose. "It's the heels, right?" She sighed, twisting one ankle to give the shoe a disapproving look. "These are from my closet. I didn't have a ton of time to go shopping, so once I found the dress, I had to call it quits."

"I don't think anyone will notice," Steve assured her, which was apparently the wrong thing to say because Becca poked him in the side.

"At least I didn't have to worry about you. I think I could find a pretty good match for this outfit in my grandpa's old photos."

Steve could have told her that wasn't true. There was plenty different about the clothes he was wearing, but then not so much different as what other men would have shown up in.

"Don't worry, you make it work," Becca continued, patting his shoulder for reassurance. "It's a very… clean look."

"Great," said Steve dryly. "That's what I was going for."

"Hey, don't knock it. Like I said, you make it work. Although…" Becca pursed her lips thoughtfully, twining her necklace around a finger. "Did you start that list?"

Steve had made a list of some of the things Becca suggested that he ought to catch up on, such as Elvis, iPhones, and how to "stream" videos, in a small journal that he'd been using to sketch in. If Becca got a hold of his list it would undoubtedly expand to a staggering length, but Steve saw no reason to keep its existence from her. He could take her suggestions one manageable chunk at a time.

"Yeah, I got one started."

Becca nodded her approval. "You might want to consider adding 'clothes' in case you ever feel like updating the wardrobe. And _if_ you wanted, I would be happy to be your consultant on a shopping trip." She rested a hand over her heart. "I promise not to impose my personal style on you."

Steve mulled over her offer. He was going to have to acquire more modern clothing at some point. A shopping trip would be less of an expedition if Becca was along to offer her decisive opinions. But then, new clothing cost a fair bit of money and using the account S.H.I.E.L.D. allowed him access to had begun to grate on Steve. Soon he had to come to a decision on whether he wanted to work for them and earn that money or find another way to make a living.

"Thanks. I'll think about it," said Steve.

"Sure." Becca tipped her head towards the couple in front of them. They were holding out IDs to the bouncer. "Guess we're next. You ready?"

The lump hadn't quite settled in Steve's stomach, but with Becca's eyes probing him for any signs of doubt, Steve smiled.

"Ready."

Once their IDs had been checked and their outfits deemed acceptable under the bouncer's piercing stare, Steve and Becca were ushered towards a wooden door underneath the words "The Live Step." Steve opened the door for Becca, and the first swell of swing music crested over him. Steve's hold on the door tightened, but he wrenched his hand free with determination and walked into the club.

The interior was all polished wood; it ran across the floor, scuffed by the tread of thousands of shoes, up carved panels along the walls to the ceiling, glinting in the light of lamps suspended within inches of the boards. Thick mauve curtains draped over the places where there were windows. The same curtains hung on either side of the stage on which a twelve-piece band was playing. Along one wall ran a long bar with three bartenders flitting between customers, some of whom sat in high chairs while others took their drinks over to a cluster of tables. The majority of the club was left open for those who wanted to dance, and there were plenty of people paired off, swirling around each other, pressed intimately close or following a series of steps to a familiar dance.

As Steve took it all in, he experienced the curious sense of vertigo he had while in line. He had spent these past weeks acclimating to the modern world, coming to terms with the impossibility of seeing home again anywhere but through a screen. Yet here it was, missing only the thick smell of cigarette smoke mingling with the sweat and polish.

Fingers twined hesitantly with his, jolting Steve back to the present.

"You okay?" Becca asked anxiously. "You look like you might get sick."

"I'm fine," Steve lied, resisting the urge to turn around and walk right back out.

"But, you –"

"It's all right, Becca." Steve made himself focus on her eyes. The dim lighting had turned their bronze to the same deep chocolate as the wooden panels, but they remained bright with worry. "I just needed a second."

Becca wrinkled her nose and her gaze flicked towards the exit. Whether honoring Steve's assertion that he would tell her if he wanted to go or deciding that the tumultuous moment had passed, Becca didn't shove him out the door.

"Let's get you a drink," prompted Becca, squeezing his hand once and withdrawing.

When Becca ducked into the crowd ahead of him, Steve nearly reached out for her hand like a drowning man groping for a lifeline, but he curbed the impulse. There were too many people, and it would make maneuvering between them difficult. He made a fist instead.

The alcohol would have no effect on him. Steve _wished_ he could have something strong enough to dull the razor's edge of emotions threatening to cut into his chest. Still, he ordered a drink, and Becca sent the bartender off with their orders and a ten dollar bill. The room seemed to tug him in different directions, threatening to rip him apart or launch him out the door in an effort to get away. To keep from crumbling, Steve turned to Becca for a distraction.

"So what have you been doing since Thursday?"

"Let's see…" Becca chewed on the corner of her lip. "Mostly work stuff, to be honest. I have that semi-annual presentation coming up that I texted you about, which is, you know, super not fun because not only do I have to stress over proving that I am an awesome and effective employee but I also have to put on my grown-up suit and go into an office."

"I'm sure you'll do fine."

"I hope so. Last time was nearly a disaster because I spent half the presentation attempting not to laugh." Becca rolled her eyes. "One of the supervisors there. She was – Okay, picture a witch."

An image of the Wicked Witch of the West popped into Steve's head. "All right."

"Now picture her making this expression." Becca dropped her mouth open with her tongue resting on her bottom lip and squinted one eye.

"That's pretty bad."

Becca dropped the odd expression. "Oh, it gets worse." She leaned towards him and in a conspiratorial stage whisper said, "She started to snore." Steve's mouth twitched into a smile. "Mhmm. And no one woke her up or said anything. I had to carry on like it wasn't happening with this woman right in front of me."

The bartender set down their drinks and Becca's change. Becca swept the change into her clutch while Steve lifted the glass closest to him.

"Here's to not putting not putting another witch to sleep with your presentation."

"I didn't put her to sleep," contradicted Becca indignantly. "But cheers."

The band had switched from swing to jazz, and the sight of all those people dancing in quick, carefree movements prompted Steve to quickly down his drink before he remembered that it wouldn't help. How many times had he stood on the side of a dance floor like this one watching the dancers following these same steps?

Bucky insisted over and over again that they go out dancing, sometimes on a double date and other times to find women at one of the local clubs, despite the fact that Steve would inevitably end up tucked into a corner somewhere on his own. There Bucky would find him and either try to draw Steve back out or keep him company. After a while, Steve learned to leave before Bucky found him. Otherwise, Bucky would usually leave a girl behind to walk home with him.

Those memories hit Steve hard. Dryness pricked the back of his throat, warning of the impending possibility of tears.

Becca's hand came to rest gently on top of his. Steve took a shuddering breath and looked at her.

"I know I'm nagging, but are you absolutely sure you don't want to leave?" Becca asked, the softness of her tone betraying her deep concern. "I really don't mind. I promise."

Steve almost accepted the offer, but he reminded himself that this wasn't one of the same clubs he had gone to with Bucky. There were too many small things that were different. This place wasn't a slice of the 1940s; it was just a club that had nothing to do with him. Anyway, he finally had a woman who wanted to dance with him. Steve didn't want to chance her disappointment even though Becca was insisting they could leave.

"Thanks, but we can stay."

Becca opened her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut. She gazed at him pensively and shrugged.

"Okay," Becca conceded. "Then, do you wanna dance?"

With music this fast, Steve was positive he would step on Becca's toes. He didn't have the greatest sense of rhythm. When he had toured America promoting war bonds, a director had tried to teach him a few steps to the music with one of the dancers. It had been a colossal failure.

"I think I need something slower."

"Slower it is." Becca nodded towards the dance floor. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not an expert at dancing either. And I didn't know how people danced in the Forties, so Ally and I – she says 'hi' by the way – spent a few hours yesterday watching YouTube videos and dancing around the apartment. We definitely stepped all over each other quite a bit in the beginning. Then, she had to be all dramatic and try to dip me. Bam!" Becca clapped her hands. "Dropped me on the floor. I'm sure you won't be _that_ bad."

Steve had a vision of Becca and Ally waltzing around their cluttered apartment, knocking into the couch and each other, and he did feel a bit better. He would never drop Becca, so he did have that working in his favor. If the song was slow and easy, he should do all right.

"I'll do my best."

"Then we'll be fine." Becca tossed her head, sending the curled strands tumbling back over her shoulders. "Although I have to warn you, I might have to show off for at least part the Jitterbug if it comes on because I'm pretty proud of myself for learning it. I know it was technically '39, but I was assured it was very popular in the early Forties."

"Thanks for the warning," said Steve, but he was relieved Becca wasn't expecting him to pick up any elaborate dance moves tonight.

The band stopped playing and picked up again on a slow number. Becca beamed and hopped down from her chair before Steve could think up an excuse to wait for another song.

Becca squeezed her clutch between her hands and then held it out to him with near reluctance.

"If you wouldn't mind putting this in a pocket."

Steve took the clutch, tucking it into his pants while Becca moved off. He gathered up his courage and followed her, wondering what it said about him that he felt more confident about taking on a heavily armed enemy camp than facing a dance.

Becca brought them to a spot on the edge of the dance floor where there was some room to maneuver and held up her arms expectantly. Steve placed a hand on her waist and enfolded her other hand in his. He kept a careful distance between them to diminish the chance of stepping on her.

Becca arched an eyebrow at this. "You know, it's okay to come a little closer. You don't need to keep a space for Jesus or anything." Steve shuffled minutely closer. Becca sighed in gentle exasperation. "Such a grandpa," she murmured.

"I need to see my feet," Steve explained.

Otherwise he would have closed the distance, just not as much as the couple next to them who were lip-locked and swaying as they caressed each other in such a way that Steve felt even more uncomfortable than he already was.

"A slow foxtrot is a safe choice, I think," Becca mused, tapping a heel to the rhythm of the band. "Do you know the foxtrot at all?"

"Sort of." Steve knew the steps, but he had never danced it with a woman.

"Cool. You'll do great."

"All right," mumbled Steve, not sounding convinced. Sure, a few steps was less intimidating than an entire dance number, but Steve wasn't much confident in his ability to do even those four steps without a mishap.

"Hey." Becca ducked her head to catch his gaze and turn it up from their feet. "If you mess up…" She shrugged. "This isn't competitive dancing. It's not supposed to be perfect. It's supposed to be fun. Just me and you, okay?"

Steve drew in a slow breath. Becca wasn't going tease him if he made a mistake, not seriously. She'd admitted to practicing with her roommate with a rough start. As long as he moved carefully, he wouldn't step on her. There wasn't a need to be so nervous. Steve blew out the breath.

"We better get started or the song's gonna be over."

Becca nodded. "First left step." Steve waited to see how far Becca moved her right foot back before stepping forward. "Now right." They stepped again with the opposite foot. "Left again." Steve watched Becca sweep her foot out at a slight angle and placed his foot in front of hers. "And…"

Steve pivoted on the front of his right foot, allowing Becca to lead him in a ninety-degree swing with the weight of her body. When they stopped, he set down his left foot. He'd made it through all four steps without treading on Becca or making a mistake. He glanced up. Becca was beaming at him.

"What'd I tell you? You did good."

The foxtrot might not be fancy or real difficult by most people's standards, but Steve felt a sense of accomplishment nonetheless. In the moment, Steve forgot completely about his surroundings, lost under a flare of pride and Becca's disarming smile.

"Well, I have a good partner."

Becca flushed happily. "I do what I can. You wanna keep going?"

"Absolutely."

Steve kept an eye on their feet as they went over the steps. With each repetition, Steve grew surer of the movements. He nearly stepped on Becca's toes once when he overestimated the swing, but that was the only close call.

The end of the song came up too soon. It was an unexpected blow. The band kicked up a faster song, setting all the dancers swinging to the hopping beat while Steve looked up in dismay. Becca, however, was unperturbed.

"You know the best thing about the foxtrot?" she asked, raising her voice over the music. Steve shook his head. "It can be done as fast or slow as you want." Becca gave his hand a light squeeze. "Let's swing it, partner."

With Becca's innate sense of rhythm they were soon whirling in a neat, square formation. Steve realized that, at some point, Becca had given up the lead to him and he was guiding her instead of the other way around. The call of the trumpet and thump of the drum seemed to be pushing them along. Steve fell into a rhythm he didn't know he had in him.

The gap between Becca and himself had been steadily closing, and with a decisive step Becca pressed right up against him. Steve panicked. He couldn't see his feet. Two warm fingers nudged under his chin. Obediently, Steve lifted his face to Becca's. She set her hand back on his shoulder and flashed an encouraging smile.

Under the loud music, Steve heard her say, "You've got this."

As it turned out, he did. Four quick steps proved it. Maybe their dance wasn't perfect, occasionally they bumped into someone or were knocked into, but Steve deciding that dancing was fun, as Becca had promised.

Becca was definitely having fun. She apologized to anyone they collided with, but giggled helplessly afterwards. If the band played a song which she knew, Becca bounced on her heels in anticipation and exclaimed "I know this one!" to which Steve would reply "Then we better not waste it." After an attempt at the Lindy Hop proved less than successful, Becca merely shrugged and assured him that the foxtrot was a much better dance anyway. With her smile glowing, Steve had no choice but to believe her.

Her smile – he had really grown very fond of it. Steve watched Becca fording through the crowd towards the restroom, the clutch she had retrieved from him the last thing to disappear from his sight. Steve leaned against a wall, running a sleeve across his damp forehead. Maybe "fond" wasn't the right word. He just liked it. A lot. He couldn't reckon the amount of times he'd thought how pretty Becca was when she smiled at him, how she made him feel… better.

A beautiful woman with flowing black hair and a flower-print dress appeared in front of him.

"Hi. Would you like to dance?" she questioned in a lilting soprano.

Steve could have sworn the temperature climbed ten degrees around him. He crossed an arm over his chest, rubbing his elbow.

"Uh. I'm sorry. I, uh…" Steve's eyes flicked over the woman's head towards the spot where Becca had vanished. "I've already got a partner," he informed her with resolve. "I'm just waiting for her to come back."

The woman pouted, but moved off. Steve relaxed, hoping no other women approached him. He folded his arms, hopefully looking disinterested. While Steve waited, his thoughts turned back to how he had dismissed the woman, what he had said. It was the second time tonight he had called Becca his "partner," and while Becca tossed the term out easily, he wondered at his mind picking that word without a second thought when it had once meant so much to him.

Steve was distracted by the band breaking into the Jitterbug. Becca was going to miss it. But within seconds she appeared, weaving towards him with intent. Steve hastened to meet her. They bumped straight into each other, but Becca bounced backwards without pause.

"It's the Jitterbug!" Becca squealed.

"Go on!" Steve encouraged, Becca's excitement rubbing off on him. "This is your dance."

Becca didn't need to be told twice. She shoved her clutch into his hands and leapt into the dance in a swirl of skirts, kicking up her feet and falling into the steps with ease. Steve was impressed. It was difficult to believe she'd picked up this dance with so little practice.

Steve was content to let Becca show off, but Becca grabbed his hands. "Dance with me!"

"I don't know all the steps," Steve objected, attempting to extract his hands.

"Who cares?" Becca laughed. "Dance with me, Steve."

Becca spun them around, lifting their arms up and bringing them back together. Steve shook his head, grinning, and gave in.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Keep away from THE JITTERBUG! I swear that song is going to be stuck in my head for at least a week now. So. Catchy. **

**Anyway, here is the dancing that I hinted about last chapter. I knew I wanted to do a dancing club scene with Steve since it would an emotional roadblock from his past that needed some working through. **

**Also, a little insight into the drug addiction that Becca's developing, hm? With the fun adventures, I know the addiction seems to be shifted to the background. However, I think it is an unfortunate reality of prescription addiction that the addiction begins subtly until the addict is smack-dab in the middle of a full blown addiction without realizing how they got there (or that they're even there). **

**Thank you to all you wonderful readers and reviewers! Next chapter we're finally getting to something that begins with "Aveng-" and ends in "-ers." I hope y'all are pumped because I am. **


	10. Fight Or Flight

Steve tugged on the sleeve of his uniform, shifting the tight fabric into place. Putting on his uniform, it had felt good. He felt useful again with a mission to carry out, people he could help. But all that had been swept under the enormity of the task before him and the remainder of the team Nick had dubbed "The Avengers."

Loki had the Tesseract and, if Tony was right, Stark Tower as a power source. Whatever Loki's plan, there was sure to be plenty of destruction in his wake. Loki had proven time and again that human lives meant nothing to him. A lot of people could die, and New York City would be ground zero unless he was stopped.

From the pocket of his neatly folded pants, Steve plucked out his wallet and cell phone. While S.H.I.E.L.D. had kept a utility belt on his uniform, most of the pockets were empty of equipment. He placed the wallet into one of those pockets, but hesitated over the phone. Becca was giving her presentation today. Steve didn't know where or when it was taking place, but he was concerned that she could be caught near the tower if things went bad. He opened their messages, the last from Becca the night he'd left New York.

"_K text me when you get back then. And good luck! Don't throw out your back or anything ;)" _

Although Steve would have preferred to call and impress on her how important it was that she stayed out of harm's way, he didn't have a lot of time. Steve would say this for texting, it was a lot faster.

"Keep away from Stark Tower. If you're not at home, get there as soon as you can. I'll let you know when everything is clear." Steve glanced over the text and added, "Stay safe."

The message refused to send. His phone wasn't getting a signal and with the helicarrier's communications knocked out, Steve had no way of reaching Becca.

Steve shoved his phone into another pocket. There would be a signal once he got close to New York. Loki would wait until then to make his move. He needed his audience. Steve took up his shield and left the room to track down Agent Romanoff. Chances were good that Becca wasn't even close to Stark Tower. She would be all right.

* * *

The presentation went well. At least, Becca didn't stumble over anything and no one fell asleep this time. Following the presentation, she had to wade through a series of questions on the advertisements she had presented as everyone wanted to look like a smart and thoughtful employee, although Becca really didn't think it was necessary to be quizzed on font sizes for ten minutes.

Still, Becca felt good as she took her seat. No more presentations to worry about for another six months. She pulled out her phone to check it for no other reason than force of habit. The message light blinked. When Becca saw Steve's name, she smiled. He must have returned, and she couldn't wait to hear what had put Captain America back in action. However, the content of the text made the smile slip from her face.

Why did she have to avoid Stark Tower? Was it going to blow up? Had there been a terrorist threat? If so, wouldn't there be an alert out? Becca itched to text Steve and find out what was going on, but he was obviously in the middle of something important. Having his phone go off and distract him was the last thing he needed.

Furthermore, the specifics could be top secret. Exciting in theory, but the reality was that the cryptic text made Becca both anxious and frustrated. It didn't help that her office was four streets down and one block over from Stark Tower. Becca wasn't sure how far "away" she should be, but this didn't seem far enough. Of all the damn days to have to come in.

Jumping up and leaving was out of the question. If she had the slightest clue what was going on, she would have warned everyone and gotten the hell out. Since she was in the dark, Becca planned to skip out on the rest of the presentations and following meeting by feigning illness.

To her dismay, a coworker hopped out of his seat at the front of the table, and they went straight into another presentation. Becca attempted to listen and take notes, all the while tapping her foot nervously against the carpet and waiting to hear a loud bang or feel the building sway.

Once the coworker had finished, one of the supervisors announced a break. Becca checked her phone, turning the volume back on as she did so. No messages. She promptly dropped the phone and tablet into her work purse and made straight for Alice, the supervisor Becca considered the most easygoing. Alice was sitting on the other end of the table, a graceful woman in her early fifties who always wore a tight bun and thin glasses that gave her the appearance of a stern librarian until one spoke to her.

"Excuse me."

Alice paused in her typing, fingers hovering over laptop keys as she looked up.

"I'm so sorry to do this, but I was wondering if I could be excused. My roommate came down with the flu recently, and I think I might have caught it from her." Becca touched her stomach for effect.

"You do look a little unwell," Alice noted. She gave Becca a sympathetic smile. "Of course you are excused. I will send along an e-mail after the meeting."

Becca sighed in relief. "Thank you so much."

It was difficult for Becca not to sprint out of the conference room. She made herself walk to the elevator. With each stop, her impatience grew. Why did the company she worked for have to be all the way on the twenty-third floor? If she wasn't barricaded in the back of the elevator, Becca would have gotten out and taken the stairs.

Once she was free of the office building, Becca picked up her pace to a near jog, taking a street that would keep her a few blocks away from Stark Tower. It might have been a couple of hours since Steve had texted her, but Becca didn't think for a minute that meant the threat at Stark Tower was over. The chances of Steve not letting her know the coast was clear were pretty slim. He had a startlingly good memory, so forgetting about her was unlikely. If he had gone out of his way to warn her, then he probably would do the same to keep her from fretting over his text. A threat that was taking this long to dispel was cause for serious concern. God, she hoped Steve was all right.

Becca wondered if she should text her friends who worked in this area. She might not be able to explain what was happing, but friends were more trusting than coworkers. A low buzzing accompanied by a ripping sound went unnoticed as it melded with the constant city noises. Before Becca could get to her phone, the person in front of her abruptly stopped, and she crashed into him.

"What the hell!" Becca snapped, nerves transforming her voice into a whip.

The man didn't even turn around. He was staring up at the sky with shock. Around them, others were looking, fingers pointing up. Becca followed their collective gaze, and her mouth gaped.

A pillar of light shot up from the top of Stark Tower, launching straight into the sky. Except the light then disappeared not into blue and clouds, but a massive hole from which streamed a series of objects. Freak weather, was Becca's immediate thought, followed closely by meteorites. Reeling from the shock of what she was seeing, Becca sluggishly remembered that she was supposed to keep away from Stark Tower. Were these bombs? The objects didn't move like bombs or meteorites or anything that resulted from freak weather. They spread out in a pattern that reminded Becca of a swarm of wasps pouring out of a hive, intent on stinging an intruder.

Because she had some kind of warning, Becca recovered before most of the people around her. She ran as fast as her heels would allow, making for the subway. Whatever was happening, when things came from the sky, getting underground was top priority. Maybe she could make it before they shut down the trains. The more distance she put between herself and Stark Tower, the better.

While some people continued to stare up at the sky, others had decided, like Becca, that they needed to get to safety. They dashed into buildings, scattered through the streets, banged on car windows. Some abandoned their cars. Others tore down the street at top speed, rules of the road forgotten. Glass shattered, cars smashed into each other, shouts and screams reverberated in Becca's ears, but none of it prepared her for the bolt of light that crackled past her.

The bolt hit a woman in front of Becca. The woman was propelled forwards and sprawled onto the sidewalk, limp. A man staggered back from the body, while a mother and child trampled right over her without seeming to notice. Becca glanced behind her and froze.

The objects weren't objects. They were people, flying through the air on golden machines and shooting out bolts of light. Every few seconds, one of the people dropped down from the machines and landed on the street to pick off those who fled from them. Struggling to make sense of the scene, Becca's mind supplied her with _Star Wars_.

"No," Becca whispered to herself.

That was impossible. This was an invading army with advanced technology. That was all. Maybe they were from another country or a secret group in the US. They weren't from another planet, and they definitely weren't…

Becca flinched as one of the machines went roaring overhead. She got a glimpse of a tall body covered in metal-plated armor with a face that protruded impossibly like a skeletal lizard. Alien. It looked alien. Fear leeched through her, gluing her feet to the sidewalk. A mask, a deformity, humans under experimentation. What did it matter? She had to _move_.

In the few seconds Becca had stood immobile on the sidewalk, the invading force had swollen in numbers, pouring out of the sky in an endless stream. Becca made herself turn around. As much as she wanted to run, her legs seemed to be working against her. She stumbled over a crack, hopping awkwardly to regain her balance. A teenage boy was hit off to her left. He fell against the window of a building, leaving a streak of red on the glass.

Someone leapt on top of Becca as heat sizzled over her. She put out her hands in time to prevent her face from bashing into the cement. A gunshot went off right over her, and Becca shrieked in alarm. The weight on her lower back lifted, and Becca was dragged to her feet.

The woman was short, a few inches over five feet at most. A few stray wrinkles suggested she was in her late thirties. Her straight, brown hair was drawn back in a plain ponytail, and the clothes she wore were unremarkable business casual. Becca noticed all of this only after seeing the gun in the woman's hand.

"This way," the woman instructed with such authority that Becca started forward immediately.

Occasionally firing at an attacker, the woman dashed out into the street. Between the strange weapons and accidents, there were no longer any cars moving. Becca twisted her head back and forth, ready to dive aside from the deadly bolts of light. She wanted to believe this was all a bad dream, but this was far too vivid. The woman crouched over a manhole and yanked the cover open. She gestured into the darkness with the handgun.

"Go." She peered up, raising the gun.

Since Becca's instincts were screaming at her to get out of danger as quickly as possible, she swung onto the ladder without question and descended into the sewers. As soon as there were enough empty rungs, the woman stepped down onto the ladder as well. When she shut the cover, Becca was able to see only a few rays of light coming through sewer grates.

Her feet touched stone and slid, although in what Becca didn't want to know. She held onto the edge of the ladder, legs shaking uncontrollably. Dizziness took hold of her, and between it and the disgusting smell, Becca forced back the urge to vomit.

The woman landed on the ground and clicked on a small flashlight. Around them was a curved tunnel of mixed brick and stone. They stood on a pathway, but most of the ground was covered in stagnant brown water. In the glow of the flashlight, Becca could see that the woman's expression was calm, but calculating. Becca had no clue who this woman was, but there was no way anyone could be this calm without knowing something.

"What… the fuck… is going on?" Becca asked.

The flashlight's beam swept towards her. "Take slower breaths first. You're going to hyperventilate."

Becca gripped the ladder more tightly, but forced in a huge breath, which she took through her mouth to dim the smell of sewage. She blew the breath out in a slow stream. The air did little good. Becca's heart still slammed repeatedly into her ribs.

"Okay. Tell me."

The beam moved away, and as Becca's eyes adjusted she could see the silhouette of the woman. She held remarkably still apart from her rotating hand.

The woman jerked the flashlight towards the tunnel. "I'll tell you while we move."

"No," Becca retorted. She had fixed her stupid breathing, and now she wanted to know. "I am not going anywhere with you until you _tell me what the fuck is fucking happening_!"

The woman sighed, but, evidently not wanting to be stuck for long, she said, "We're being invaded."

"No shit. By?"

"Aliens."

Becca almost collapsed. The word sounded so much worse out loud than the possibility had in her head. She rubbed a hand over her cheek, willing herself to stay upright.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice unsteady as the ground beneath her felt.

"Agent Greaves." The woman took out a badge. Her flashlight glinted off the silver eagle symbol. "I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D."

Being with a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent didn't change the fact that aliens were invading or that they were in danger, but Becca felt a measure of relief nonetheless. These were the people that Steve was helping. He must have sent Agent Greaves to look for her. Becca counted herself lucky. There was a good chance she would be dead had Agent Greaves not appeared.

"We need to move, "Agent Greaves pressed, tucking the badge into a coat pocket.

"But... what about the other people?" Becca looked up to the outline of the manhole cover. "Shouldn't we try to get more people down here?"

Agent Greaves shook her head. "It would take too much time. We'd become a target."

As awful as it sounded, Becca knew Agent Greaves was right. There were too many aliens, and Agent Greaves only had so many bullets.

"Okay," Becca murmured. "Let's go."

Becca gave up her hold on the ladder, grasping her purse strap in a vice grip in its place. Screams and the screech of weapon fire filtered down through the grates with an occasionally more forceful blast that made the ceiling vibrate, raining down bits of stone and brick. The sounds made Becca queasy. She took an extra step, sticking close to Agent Greaves, and they walked down the path in a direction away from Stark Tower.

"I'm sorry that I snapped at you," Becca apologized. Her voice echoed loudly down the tunnel, but not loudly enough to block out the destruction overhead as much as Becca wished it would. "I'm just kinda freaked out."

"Understandable. You're handling this as well as most people will."

Which Becca knew was not very well at all. "You seem pretty fine."

"Mmmm."

Agent Greaves would have no doubt let the subject drop, but Becca thought that if she didn't keep talking, she might really start freaking out.

"So the government knows about aliens then?" Becca continued. "Is Area 51 legit?"

Although anyone who faced what was happening in New York would be horrified, and rightly so, there were conspiracy theorists and people sitting in bunkers with tin foil hats that must be grimly congratulating themselves on their foresight. Becca hadn't discounted the possibility of aliens existing somewhere in the universe. However, an invasion seemed nothing more than a fantasy until now.

"There is no Area 51," Agent Greaves dismissed. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has only been recently made aware of other beings. There was an incident in New Mexico."

Becca waited, but when it was clear no more details would be forthcoming, she asked, "Well, what happened?"

Agent Greaves flashed a brief, considering look over her shoulder. "I'm afraid I don't have clearance to tell you that."

"Seriously? There are aliens up there." Becca waved at the ceiling even though Agent Greaves was no longer looking. "I know they exist. Everyone knows they exist. Isn't it all going to come out anyway?"

For a minute, Agent Greaves went silent. Becca was afraid that the agent had clammed up completely. She ran a hand up and down her purse strap, deciding what other subject to broach instead.

"In all likelihood, a lot of it will come out," agreed Agent Greaves at length. "That incident is very much at the heart of this invasion. But I can't say any more than that. It's against protocol to divulge information to a civilian, even if you are… close to Captain Rogers."

Apprehension bubbled up in Becca's stomach at the sound of Steve's name. "Is he at the tower?"

"Most likely." Agent Greaves shone her flashlight into a gap in the wall leading to another stretch of sewer.

If Steve was at the tower, he wouldn't be alone. There was no way Iron Man wouldn't be there, and there must be more S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, too. Still, with the sheer number of aliens pouring through the hole above Stark Tower, there was the very real possibility that they would be overwhelmed. Becca took out her phone, biting on her bottom lip. His message popped up on the screen as soon as she unlocked it.

_Stay safe_.

The last message she had sent was a teasing one. What if it was the last thing she ever sent him? Becca's eyes pricked with tears. She should have sent something nicer. She should have demanded to know where his apartment was so she could run over and give him a hug before he left. She should have gotten up early this morning and had breakfast with Ally. She should have called her parents for once. A tear rolled down Becca's cheek, falling onto the screen.

When Agent Greaves touched her shoulder, Becca jumped. The agent's expression was still full of calm determination, but the edge in her eyes had softened for the moment.

"Don't go down that road," she warned, as though reading Becca's mind. "We haven't lost yet."

Becca nodded. There might be a way to stop the invasion. Once word got out, the Secretary of Defense would probably authorize all kinds of military units to join in the fight. Becca rubbed at her eyes, wiping away tears. She couldn't go to pieces. Like her injury, this was a bad situation to be handled one step at a time. Steve told her to stay safe. The best way to do that was to follow Agent Greaves and not panic.

"All right. I'm okay," stated Becca, more to herself than Agent Greaves.

"Good." Agent Greaves dropped her arm. "We're going to cross here."

Agent Greaves slipped through the gap. Becca hurried along after. She knew consciously that it was stupid to be nervous about rats when they had much bigger problems, but that didn't make her feel better about sitting in the dark when the flashlight was pointed away from her. Rats were huge and nasty, and she would kick one clear across the tunnel if it touched her.

The next tunnel was even wider. There was a space to walk along both sides should someone had the inclination, or the stomach, to cross the filthy water. Not that it would do much good, but Becca was glad she had chosen to wear her suit. If she had to cross through anything, a skirt would be a decidedly worse defense against… whatever was in that water.

The back of her neck ached, and Becca recognized that it had been for awhile. She'd been too distracted for once to give it much thought. It had to be time to take her meds. This was exactly why she brought them everywhere. If she had had been caught without them, she would have been screwed. Becca felt around in her purse to locate the bottles. Fortunately, she didn't need to ask for light. She knew from the shape of the tablets which was Oxy and which was Adderall.

"So what's it like working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Becca asked, automatically covering the unmistakable rattle of medication shifting in a bottle.

"Currently, it stinks."

Becca was so surprised by the joke that she giggled. "Yeah, guess you can't go much lower."

"No. Not much lower than this," said Agent Greaves dryly. "This is shit."

Becca smiled, popping the tablets into her mouth. She took out a tiny water bottle and swallowed some water with the tablets. Agent Greaves was all right.

"What's it really like?"

Agent Greaves seemed to consider the question. "Interesting."

"I bet." Becca imagined S.H.I.E.L.D. to be an even more covert version of the FBI. "Do you have, like, a specialty or something? Weapons? Kicking ass?"

Agent Greaves laughed. "I'm a field agent, so I suppose I specialize in both weapons and kicking ass."

"Very cool. I have no experience in either, but I think learning a bit of self-defense when this is all over might be a good call." Should anything ever happen to her, Becca didn't want to freeze up again. "Possibly also learning how to shoot a gun. Possibly also buying a gun."

"That may be wise," Agent Greaves approved. She jerked her flashlight towards the ceiling as grime cascaded down in the wake of a deafening roar. Becca eyed the ceiling herself. What make a sound like _that_? "I'm sure Captain Rogers will be very helpful in those areas."

"Um… yeah."

Of course, it made sense that Becca would go to Steve, but she didn't love the idea of looking like a hopeless case once he figured out that she didn't have the slightest clue how to throw a punch. She was thinking more along the lines of taking a class where there would be people as clueless as she was or, better yet, learning from YouTube in the privacy of her apartment where she wouldn't look weak to anyone.

A wave of faint detonations went off above, which would have meant nothing to Becca and Agent Greaves had it not been followed by an explosion of sound. In the beam of the flashlight that swiveled over her head, Becca could see that the far end of the tunnel behind them was collapsing as something massive, gold, and grey ripped through the street above. Whatever that something was, it was coming closer.

"Run!" Agent Greaves yelled, but this time Becca was already running.

They pelted down the stone path. Agent Greaves was in the lead and pulling farther ahead with every step. Becca would have taken off her heels, but the floor was slick. Besides, that would have meant stopping. Fear fueled her, pushing her legs to their limit. Behind them, bricks rained down. Water and refuse overcame them in a wave that rose up around Becca's ankles. She tripped at the weight of it, but caught herself against the wall. Becca looked back as she ran.

The thing had stopped moving, its momentum halted by the concrete. Light poured in around it from the broken road, but that gave Becca no more idea of what the thing was. What she did recognize were the figures splashing through the water around it. The aliens appeared to be climbing over the thing to get back to the surface.

Becca skidded to a stop. She held very still and breathed as quietly as she could. The tunnel seemed to have settled and was no longer caving in. If she didn't make a sound, the aliens would go away. Agent Greave must have had the same thought because Becca no longer heard her nor saw the beam of the flashlight. She was too scared to let the aliens out of her sight to find out for certain.

Whether the thing was metal or flesh or both, it made for a tough climb. Becca counted seven aliens as they skittered over the thing. They chattered at each other with increasing volume as they failed to scale their way successfully up to join their comrades.

A hand curved over Becca's mouth. Becca twitched and just managed to swallow her scream. Agent Greaves tugged lightly at Becca's arm, and Becca got the message. They had to keep moving. It was only a matter of time before the aliens tried the tunnel. Slowly, Becca turned her back on the aliens and waded through the knee-deep water. She tried not to think about the aliens or what was in the water. She concentrated on an image of her cozy apartment. She was going to survive to get back to that apartment.

"There's a split here," whispered Agent Greaves through the dark. "We're going left."

Becca felt her way around the corner. A scream that needed no translation split through the tunnel. The aliens were moving. Becca and Agent Greaves picked up their pace, hidden under the splashes and shrill sounds the aliens were making.

Abruptly, Becca slammed into Agent Greaves so hard that the breath was knocked from her. She staggered back a step.

"Why'd you stop?" she hissed.

"There's a grate."

"What?" The short tunnel was indeed a dead end. Becca reached out and touched the grate in front of her. "Shit."

Agent Greaves said nothing. They had to go back into the tunnel, which meant they were definitely going to be seen. Those aliens looked big. Becca wasn't going to outrun them, especially not in water. Facing down one of those things was basically suicidal. Becca shivered.

"Listen to me." Although barely speaking at a whisper, Agent Greaves' voice held strong as metal. "Take the flashlight." She shoved the flashlight at Becca, who gripped it like a talisman. "We're going to go back. When we reach the lip of the tunnel, you're going to run as fast as you can. The first turnoff you see, you take it. I'll cover you."

"Okay," Becca squeaked.

After allowing Agent Greaves past, Becca backtracked to the end of the short tunnel. She expected to hear her heart hammering in her ears, but all she could hear was the splashing and chittering coming closer. The alien weapons seemed to emit a soft light even when they weren't being fired because a blue-tinged glow flashed on the walls.

"Ready?"

Becca felt more ready to puke than run. The back of her neck was still throbbing since the Oxy had yet to kick in.

"Ready."

Agent Greaves swung out into the larger tunnel and fired three shots in rapid succession. Becca ran. At the sound of a several bolts, she dodged. One flew right by her elbow. She plunged through the water with weapon fire shoving her forward. A bolt grazed by her hip, so close that the heat made Becca skid to get out of the way. She slipped, falling sideways and soaking the left half of her body. Her purse fell off as Becca scrambled to her feet, but she left it and continued her desperate sprint, expecting any moment to feel a bolt thud into her.

As the glow faded, Becca was losing her ability to see. She clicked on the flashlight, waving it frantically in search of an escape. The light danced across the muck-caked walls like a frenzied firefly. There had to be a turnoff close by. There had to be.

There! The tunnel branched off to the left again. Becca hurtled around the corner and almost cried in relief when she saw that it wasn't another dead end. They had a chance! If Agent Greaves shot all the aliens, they could make it out and get away.

Then, Becca realized that she couldn't hear Agent Greaves. She stopped. There was no sound at all, not even splashing. Had they all killed each other? Or had the aliens gone quiet hoping to lure her out?

Becca hesitated. This was twice that Agent Greaves had saved her life. She could be injured and alone. Maybe she just needed someone to help her walk. Becca took another step in the direction she had been running, but looked back over her shoulder. At least she could take a quick peek. She owed the agent that much. Becca waded back to the edge of the tunnel and peered around the corner.

The aliens must have surrounded Agent Greaves because she was pressed back against the wall. Either she had run out of bullets or lost her gun. The aliens had not. There were two left; both trained massive gold, glowing weapons at her. The weapons had a shape similar to a large water gun, but with a lethally effective shot.

Becca assessed the aliens. She estimated that they were both standing near where the water-covered walkway dropped off. If she distracted them, Agent Greaves had a chance to take them down. Becca sucked in a breath. This had better be worth it or else she'd blow her cover for nothing.

"Hey!" Becca bellowed.

It worked. The aliens both looked towards her. Agent Greaves was not so easily distracted. She leapt on them. All three went into the water with an echoing splash. They resurfaced, struggling with each other in a tangle of limbs. Becca eyes dropped to a golden gun. She didn't even know if she could use it. Her gaze darted between the gun and the fight.

"Shit." Becca ran towards the gun, spraying water everywhere. "Shit. Shit. Shit." This was the stupidest goddamn thing she had done in her entire life.

Agent Greaves got her legs around one of the aliens, but the other pulled her top half down and under. Becca could see that her first assessment of the aliens as skeletal lizards hadn't been wholly off, if those lizards were tall and had grayish-purple skin, yellow eyes, and an affinity for wearing armor. Agent Greaves bobbed back to the surface, gasping. She yanked the helmet off of the alien holding her leg and smashed it into the face of the other.

Becca reached the gun. There were two more bodies floating there, one with another gun and one with a long stick-like weapon ending in a small blade. Becca shoved the flashlight into her pocket and snatched up the gun, holding it in the same way the aliens had, but she couldn't find a trigger. She hurriedly felt around for where she thought a trigger should be, but there was nothing there. She screeched in frustration and pitched the gun at the alien with the helmet, who currently had its hands around Agent Greaves' throat.

The gun smacked into the back of the alien's head. The alien turned, agitated. Agent Greaves pivoted and grabbed the gun, which was miraculously floating on top of the water despite its heavy appearance. She used it to hit the alien with so much force that its neck made a cracking sound. It fell back and floated, lifeless. She turned and stared straight down the muzzle of another gun. The helmetless alien had recovered its weapon.

Becca swore that time slowed, or maybe it was that everyone held still for a split second. Shock melted to acceptance in Agent Greaves' eyes. Becca reached forward, knowing full well there was nothing she could do but her body reacted of its own accord.

The alien shot Agent Greaves point blank. Her face caved, sizzling like fried meat.

Becca had never been able to stomach much violence. Gory movies or pictures of serious wounds made her queasy if she looked too long. But watching Agent Greaves' face fold onto itself with skin blistering and bits of blood and tissue splattering out didn't sicken Becca. It filled her with a flash of blinding rage.

As the alien began to spin towards her, Becca swept up the stick weapon. It was made of metal and filled the width of her hand. Along one edge the metal was cut into a blade over what might have been a gun barrel. She hefted the weight and swung it like a baseball bat. The end smacked into side of the alien's head. The bolt from the alien's gun went wide, but Becca hardly noticed. She shifted her stance and brought the weapon back in the other direction, catching the alien on the back of its unprotected skull. The alien lurched and dropped its gun.

Becca hit it again and again, anger swelling through her and tunneling her vision. Purple gunk oozed up from welts and dents as the alien's skull splintered, but Becca kept on hitting. The alien let out a scream of mindless fury that went on, echoing down the tunnel and reverberating back as though a hoard of inhuman beings sought to tear the bricks apart with their voices alone.

When the alien floated in the water with its head a pulpy mess, Becca found out that she was the one screaming. She dropped the weapon and staggered away with a groan. Her back hit the wall, and Becca collapsed forward on her hands and knees. She vomited into the water. Tears streaked down her face as the pain set in. She looked up, saw the mutilated alien bobbing with the remaining force of her blows, and vomited again. How could she have done that? Becca stared down at her trembling reflection. She gagged, but there was nothing left to come up.

From the chaos above the torn open tunnel, Becca knew that the battle was not yet over. She had to get up. She attempted to stand and failed. Only by using the wall for support was she able to get to her feet. Becca leaned against the brick, gasping as the world lurched. She couldn't stay here; more of the aliens might come down.

Becca couldn't make herself touch the stick again, but she could take a gun. She would throw it again if she had to. Having a weapon was better than not having one. Her hands were slick with blood, torn open from using the stick weapon. It made picking up the gun difficult, but she finally managed. Becca took out the flashlight, holding it under the gun cradled in her arms. She tried to walk forward, but a single step made her pitch dizzily.

During her car accident, Becca had gone into shock, so she was familiar with the sensation. However, unlike with a car accident, no one was on their way to help her. Becca tripped sideways, but she was able to run into the wall. She was going to use it to guide her, and she was going to walk. She was not going to allow herself to sit until she was far away from this place.

Becca ventured further into the sewers clutching an alien gun and a S.H.I.E.L.D. flashlight, walking away from the sounds of movement echoing from the rip in the tunnel.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Cliffhangerrrrrrrrr!**

**This chapter is the first in an ****_Avengers _mini-arc I have planned. Yes, it's going to be a traumatic experience for Becca and Steve, as you've probably noticed. How will they be on the other side? Only I know. Mwahahaha. **

**While I don't own _Avengers_, Agent Greaves is mine mine mine. **

**Thanks forever and always to the readers and reviewers. **


	11. The Best Girl In New York

Becca meant to get farther. She had headed away from Stark Tower with the notion of heading north from the underground attack. She wasn't sure why she had chosen that direction anymore, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

However, the layout of the sewers made it impossible head in one direction for very long. She was forced to backtrack, ford through water up to her waist, and guess her way through the tunnels. Occasionally she'd end up going in a circle, returning to a familiar stretch of brick or stone. Or maybe they were different tunnels. So much looked the same in the beam of her flashlight that Becca was soon disoriented.

At the sound of footsteps, Becca would move in the opposite direction. There were people with no choice that made a home of the sewers. Others must have thought to seek shelter, but Becca wasn't taking chances. Should she come face to face with another alien, she knew it would be over for her.

A part of her wished it was over. Her legs were shaking, barely able to support her. Her head throbbed. Her arms had given out multiple times, spilling the gun and flashlight onto the floor. At some point, Becca just left the gun. Its glow went out suddenly, and the weapon increased in weight as it did. She wouldn't even be able to throw it anymore. The temperature of the sewers felt like it was dropping at a continuous rate, making her teeth chatter. She was lightheaded, exhausted, but the worst of it was her neck.

The Oxy and Adderall she had taken right before they were attacked should have been enough to hold her over for at least three hours. As the pain increased, Becca realized that she must have vomited up the tablets before her body absorbed them. She considered for the briefest second going back for her purse, but quickly quashed the thought. Her purse could have sunk to the bottom of the sewers, and she might be caught while searching for it. When the pain became a spike in the back of her neck, she had second thoughts, but by then it was too late. She didn't have the faintest clue how to find that place again.

Eventually the dizziness and pain overcame her willpower, and Becca's legs gave out. The floor swam in her vision. She slid against the wall that had been her support and landed hard on her knees. A sharp pain burst across her face, and then…

* * *

Becca woke up on her stomach in an inch of water. The tunnel around her was composed entirely of brick with a ceiling only slightly taller than herself. There were no grates leading to the surface, and so there was no sound. Her flashlight was muffled by a wall, so she reached out and rolled it sideways for more light.

On instinct, Becca tried to push herself up. She wasn't even sure where the pain flared up. Everywhere hurt. With a whimper, she flopped back down. Her face, at least, hadn't landed in the water. Her cheek rested against bricks that felt as cold as blocks of ice. Becca tasted blood. From the stinging sensation across her nose and lip, she guessed that she had busted them when she passed out. Her stomach contracted, sending an agonizing spasm through her body, but there was nothing left to come up.

Becca stared at the bricks with a sob caught in her throat. There were no tears. Her eyes had gone completely dry and itched faintly. She wasn't going to die face down on her own and in a sewer. She wasn't. She refused.

This time Becca managed to push herself up a few inches before she collapsed again. She beat a fist onto the bricks, but the force behind the blows was pathetic. If she rested for a bit, just a bit, she could get up. She would push through the remaining pain and get up. Maybe the invasion was already over. Maybe she would climb to the surface and find out they had won.

Holding onto that possibility, Becca pulled the flashlight closer. While resting, she should turn it off to conserve batteries, but the silence already pressed in around her. Darkness would make it worse. Besides, if a rat nibbled on her, she might quite literally die of shock.

Becca's eyelids drooped as she counted her breaths, in and out.

* * *

Between a ship the size of an army base and an alien army invading Earth, Steve figured that he must have seen just about everything. Physically he wasn't much tired, but he was looking forward to going back to the apartment all the same. First though, he and the rest of the team were waiting for S.H.I.E.L.D. to arrive. Once Loki had been taken into custody, Stark suggested they go out for shwarma. No one had disagreed.

Currently, Stark and Dr. Banner were up on the roof of Stark Tower, examining the Tesseract and the machine Selvig had built. Agents Romanoff and Barton were sitting against the bar, murmuring to each other. Thor leaned against a wall opposite, arms folded. He hovered right above Loki, who, after several failed attempts to get a rise out of anyone, had gone quiet.

Steve stood in front of what had once been a large window. Wind tugged at him through the empty frame, bringing up the scent of smoke and burnt metal. With all the destruction and bodies, the city would take months to recover, but he knew that it could have been worse. They could have lost.

As Steve stared at a busted up skyscraper, he remembered that he was supposed to contact Becca. He pulled off a glove and took out his phone, which had a few nicks but appeared otherwise undamaged. To give himself a measure of privacy, he walked out onto the balcony.

The call went straight to her voicemail.

"_Hi! You've reached the voicemail of Becca Stroud. Please leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you when I can. Thanks!" _

"Hi, Becca. This is Steve. I wanted to make sure you were all right and, uh, tell you it's safe. Call me when you can."

This wasn't a promising development. He had never reached her voicemail. Becca seemed to always have her phone on hand. Whether a call or text, he rarely had to wait more than half a minute for a reply. Concern pricked at his stomach.

Steve sent her a text similar to the voicemail he'd left. A red triangle popped up next to the text with the word "undelivered." Steve waited, but with each second that passed, the concern grew from pinpoints to an ache reaching up from his stomach towards his lungs.

Becca was probably fine, but if she was out there trapped in a building or worse, Steve had to know. The heavy sensation in his gut told him that he wouldn't be able to focus on anything until he did. Her apartment was a long distance to try and make in the chaos a disaster like this set off, especially if she wasn't even there. He needed a faster way to locate her.

Nick picked up right away, sounding slightly harried.

"_Captain, like I told Agent Romanoff, I sent in as many agents as I can, but it'll take them a little time to get there. Unfortunately, aliens dropping from the sky tend to tie people up."_

"It's not – Listen, Nick, I know you're busy, but I need a favor."

"_What kind of favor?" _

"Becca's not answering her phone. I was hoping you could find her."

In the silence that followed, Steve began to think Nick was going to turn him down. Tracking down one woman in the wake of much larger events wouldn't seem that important. Fortunately, Nick must have decided that it was important enough.

"_I'll put someone on it and call you back when we've got something."_

"Thank you."

Nick hung up. Now Steve just had to kill time. He paced around the balcony for a bit, then went back inside and sat on the low steps in the middle of the decimated lounge. If Becca was home, finding her should be easy, shouldn't it? He wasn't sure how S.H.I.E.L.D.'s technology worked. Steve turned the phone between his hands.

Romanoff and Barton had lowered their voices even further, but Steve heard enough to know they were talking about him.

"Who's Becca?" questioned Barton finally.

Steve scrolled through his texts. When he returned the bottom his last text to Becca was still marked with the red triangle. He pressed the triangle, striving to fix whatever was causing the text not to send. "Resending" briefly flashed, but blinked out to "undelivered."

"She's… a friend."

Steve set the phone down at his knee, deciding that not touching it might be the best solution. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barton nudge Romanoff with his elbow.

"Is she nice?" asked Romanoff after a second.

"Yeah."

"Pretty?"

Conscious that everyone in the room was watching him, Steve nodded while making a point of studying a black smear on the sleeve of his suit. The agents glanced at each other. Barton shrugged a shoulder.

"You think maybe you'll ask her out?" Romanoff pressed.

"I…" Steve was saved from answering the question when his phone went off. "I have to take this." He stood and walked towards the balcony. "You found her?"

"_Not exactly. Last time a camera picked her up was on 39__th__ and 3__rd__ right after the army came through. We have reason to believe she 's with an agent of ours, Agent Greaves. They went down into the sewers for cover." _

Steve speculated that a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent turning up with Becca was less coincidental than Nick tried to make it sound, but that was a conversation for another time. Steve located the streets he'd been given. It was impossible to tell from where he stood, but all the buildings in the area were relatively intact. With underground cover and an agent, Becca would have been in minimal danger.

"_We couldn't get a trace on Miss Stroud's phone, but the agent she was with is stationary." _

"Where?"

"_Madison between 33__rd__ and 34__th__." _

Steve counted the streets over to Madison. The spot was two blocks down from where Tony had taken out one of the Chitauri's whale-like ships. Steve could get there quickly enough.

"Thanks."

"_Don't thank me yet. There's something else you should know."_

Steve's relief ebbed. "All right."

"_Greaves' phone is still working as far as we can tell. We tend to issue phones that are more durable than the standard model."_

"Sir, I'd appreciate it if you got right to the point," Steve interrupted.

Nick paused. _"Agent Greaves isn't responding. We traced back her signal, and it seems she hasn't moved for almost forty-eight minutes. Now, it's possible that she's unconscious and it's possible she got separated from Miss Stroud, but… I want you to go into this prepared, Cap." _

The thought of perpetually vivacious Becca lying lifeless in a sewer sent claws burrowing into his chest. Steve gritted his teeth.

"I understand."

"_I can send –"_

"No. Thank you, but no."

Nick sighed. _"I thought as much."_

"I have to go, sir."

Steve put the phone back in his belt and yanked on his glove. Wherever Becca was, he would find her and fast. She might be lost or waiting for help or… He didn't want to believe Becca was dead, but he had to brace himself.

"I'm going to look for Becca," Steve announced as he strode through the lounge, picking up his shield from where it had been sitting on top of the bar.

"Do you want help?" Barton offered.

There was an elevator; Tony and Banner had used it. However, the elevator was missing a call button. Steve touched the metal door.

"No thanks."

Steve wanted to attempt to locate Becca on his own first with the lead Nick had given him. He felt responsible for her. Furthermore, if he found Becca and she was no longer alive, Steve wasn't sure how well he was going to hold himself together.

"Take assistance if you have need of it," counseled Thor. "I will have no trouble from Loki."

"Oh yes," Loki drawled. "I shall be perfectly well behaved while you search for your woman."

Everyone ignored him.

"That's all right," said Steve, recalling with frustration that Stark had gotten the elevator to work with some kind of system named JARVIS. "I've got an idea of where to look."

"Close?" asked Romanoff.

"Yeah."

The elevator doors miraculously opened before Steve could call Stark. He nodded to the team and stepped inside.

"Good luck," said Barton and Romanoff in near unison.

"I do hope she's not dead, Captain," Loki purred as the elevator doors slid shut.

With the elevator blocking all sound from reaching back into the room, Steve growled, "She better not be."

Otherwise, he was coming back to wipe the smug look off Loki's face.

"Which floor, Captain?" inquired JARVIS.

"Ground."

Stark Tower was in the process of being evacuated along with the rest of the surrounding area, but this elevator must have been for Tony's personal use as it made no stops until Steve reached the ground floor. He jogged through the lobby, speeding up to a full run once he was on the street.

There were no manhole covers between 33rd, 34th, and Madison, but there Steve discovered a sewer grate at the corner of 34th and Madison. He set a foot against the curb for balance and wrenched the grate up with two forceful yanks. Brown water glinted below where the sunlight touched, but darkness ate around the edges. He needed a source of light.

Steve scouted out the closest police car where one of the officers let him borrow a flashlight. From there, he went back to the sewer entrance and lowered himself into the hole, holding onto the edge with one hand while clutching the flashlight and his shield in the other. Unsure of the depth of the water, he took a deep breath and dropped.

The water came up above Steve's waist. Steve took a step and felt a hard surface brush against his right leg. Another step and Steve realized that what he was feeling must have been a walkway. With all the debris that had fallen, the sewers had flooded. He got up onto the walkway, and the water level lowered to right below his knees.

"Becca?" Steve called, switching the flashlight into his free hand and sweeping it across the tunnel. "Agent Greaves?"

No one answered him nor did he hear any signs of movement, but the beam of his flashlight illuminated the shape of bodies partially submerged in the water further down the tunnel. Rats skittered off of the figures and disappeared into the water. The glinting armor identified the figures as alien, but one person among them was clearly not.

Steve's lungs contracted, squeezing all the breath out of him. He lurched forward, sprinting towards the bodies. The person's hair was dark. Dark blonde? Impossible to tell soaked in dirty water. The curve of a hip rose above the surface, definitely female, but her face was obscured under the water. Steve prayed for this person not to be Becca. He had been so close this whole time, never more than a few streets away. It would like Bucky again, Bucky who had been just out of reach when he had fallen. He had lost his best friend that day. To think it might have happened again filled Steve with a tearing panic.

There were four bodies in total, and as Steve neared them, he leapt off the walkway into the deeper water. He shoved aside a Chiaturi warrior and halted in front of the woman's body. With apprehension threading every muscle, Steve shifted the flashlight to the same hand as his shield. He turned the woman over.

At the sight of her mutilated face, Steve pressed a fist to his mouth and looked away. Grief threatened to wash up over him, but Steve forced himself to look back into her face. She must have been hit with one of the guns. The skin had melted and charred, shining like wet rubber. One eye had burst under the heat, while the other was situated unnaturally high in the sunken crater of her face. It stared up at the ceiling, the pale blue cloudy in death.

This woman had blue eyes. Becca's eyes weren't blue. They were brown. Steve reached into the water and brought the entirely of the woman's body to the surface. She was too short. This woman wasn't Becca. It had to be Agent Greaves. The despair Steve felt receded as he gently lowered Agent Greaves back into the water.

Steve hauled himself up onto the walkway and panned the flashlight over the surrounding area. He examined the short tunnel two of the bodies rested in. There was no sign of Becca. Steve sagged against the wall, relief coursing through him. Either Becca and Agent Greaves had gotten separated or the agent had held off the Chitauri while Becca got away. So he still had to find her.

"Becca?"

After a beat of silence, Steve moved down the tunnel to where the ship had broken through. He passed three more of the Chitauri on his way, floating in the muck. He prodded the slippery skin of the alien beast ship and contemplated the bits of its metal armor high over head. There wasn't a chance Becca could have made it to the surface here. Was she caught in the collapse of the tunnel?

Steve chewed over the possibility as he returned to Agent Greaves. He scrutinized the bodies, piecing together what might have happened. Assuming that the women had been together, they were attacked by Chitauri coming from the ship. At least two of the aliens in the tunnel had bullet wounds. Agent Greaves would have covered Becca and told her to run. Steve turned, facing away from the ship in the direction Becca would have fled. He followed the tunnel to the first turn off. If he had wanted to get out of the line of fire, he'd have taken this turn off, but would Becca? The light from the crater near the ship didn't stretch far. She would be running blind.

In edge of his flashlight beam, Steve noticed that there was a spot at level with his elbow where the grime had been scraped off as if a hand or shoulder had recently cleared it away. He was reminded of how Becca had kept a hand along one wall at all times when they navigated the underground maze. Steve moved the beam down the wall he had just passed and saw similar marks. In the dark of the sewer system, Becca had stuck to the same trick, leaving him a trail. Steve smiled faintly. For the moment, he was in luck.

With his flashlight trained on the wall, Steve tracked the marks through the tunnels. Every so often, he stopped and called Becca's name, listening for a response before continuing. After a long stretch of untouched wall, Steve found an alien gun abandoned on the stone. Becca could have taken it when she ran, but a more concerning possibility was that a Chitauri had pursued her. Steve moved more quickly after that.

"Becca?"

There was no response. Steve was about to take off when he heard a sound echoing at him from far away.

"Becca?"

Steve strained to listen as the reverberation of his voice faded. He heard the echo again. It was indistinct, but it sounded like a whisper and it was coming from up ahead. Steve pelted down the curving tunnel and waded into a foot of water. He called her name again. This time the sound was unmistakable.

"Hello?" The voice was raspy, but it was undoubtedly Becca's.

Steve raced towards her. The tunnel shrank, the floor curving up under his feet. A brick wall brought the tunnel to an abrupt end. Steve peered down the branching tunnels on his left and right. They were less dirty, and he saw no telltale signs that Becca had come this way.

"Becca!"

Her voice floated out of the left-hand tunnel, its tone uncertain. "Steve?"

"Yeah." Steve splashed through the tunnel. "Keep talking so I can find you."

"O-okay. I'm this way. This way! Oh god, I hope it's really you."

The tunnels in this area were almost entirely brick where the others had been stone. The water level lowered to no more than an inch or so. Steve had to duck his head so as not to accidently smack into the ceiling.

"I thought I might be hearing things. Maybe I am... It's so quiet down here. I'm this way!"

Ahead of him, a weak glow emitted from a tunnel entrance.

"I think you're close. I'm over here!"

Steve rounded the corner. Quite a few yards down the tunnel stood Becca, holding a flashlight of her own. She looked like she had been swimming in sewer water. Her frizzy hair stuck to her neck in long clumps. The water had stained her face with light browns and blacks, but beneath the grime her cheeks were flushed. Dried blood was smeared under her nose and along cut along her upper lip. Her eyes glinted in the light, fever bright and unfocused. She was on her feet, but it was obvious she was using the wall to hold herself up. The flashlight she held shook in her hand.

Becca took an unsteady breath and croaked, "You look terrible. What have you been doing? Climbing through sewers?"

"I couldn't let you have all the fun."

As unwell as Becca looked, Steve was thankful that she was upright and lucid. Still, it was obvious he needed to get her out immediately and to a doctor. He walked towards Becca, lowering his flashlight so she wouldn't be blinded.

Becca straightened a little and winced. "In all seriousness…" She smiled wearily. "I am so glad to see you."

Steve returned the smile, indescribably glad to see Becca as well. He would have told her so, if a spasm hadn't suddenly shot through her. Becca moaned in pain and hunched forwards, dry heaving. Steve dove as she fell, dropping his shield and catching her around the waist. Carefully, he lowered them both to their knees. Becca's forehead burned where it pressed against his neck, and she trembled uncontrollably.

"Are you injured?" Steve asked, wanting to know what he was dealing with before moving her.

"Give me a minute," Becca whimpered. "I'll be okay."

"I –"

"Please, Steve. Just one minute."

Steve fell silent, determined to give Becca no more than one minute. If she needed the wall for support, then Becca was most certainly not okay. An injury was one possibility. He supposed she could also have fallen and accidently swallowed some of the water. That could make a person real sick. Steve lifted a hand from her waist and gingerly touched the back of her head, holding Becca against him.

"We're gonna get out of here," Steve murmured. "But you have to tell me what's wrong so that I don't make it worse, all right?" Becca was silent apart from her labored breathing. "Becca?" Steve leaned back to make sure she hadn't fainted on him. His hand slid down farther to cradle her head.

The second the edge of his hand pressed into her neck, Becca howled. Steve started and jerked his hand away. Becca choked off the howl, but Steve's ears were ringing.

"I'm s-sorry," Becca gasped. "I'm sorry. Fuck."

"What happened to your neck?"

"N-not my neck. It's my f-fucking spine."

Steve felt like the floor dropped out from under him. Nearly two decades of knowing that a spinal injury meant certain death made fear bubble up inside him. An acrid taste filled the back of his mouth, and he resisted the urge to pull Becca closer. He shouldn't let her move at all.

Through his panic, Steve recalled that there had been a few reports of recoveries with new treatments in the years before he had joined the army. The world had come so far since then in a lot of ways. They had to have come up with something for spinal injuries, hadn't they?

"What happened?"

"I was in this car accident two months ago." Steve's eyebrows drew together in confusion. So the injury was an old one? Becca convulsed and hiccupped through another dry heave. "There are nerves in my s-spine that are damaged near my neck. I have medication for the pain, but I l-lost it."

That was exactly what Steve wanted to hear. "Where?"

"I don't know. Back – back when we got attacked. They were in my purse."

Steve hadn't seen a purse anywhere along the tunnel with the Chitauri. It would be underwater wherever it had fallen.

"Do you have more at home?"

Through clenched teeth Becca answered, "No. God, I'm such an idiot."

"It's fine. We'll get you more." Steve tried to remember if he'd seen any drug stores in the area. "So I can carry you?"

"I can walk," Becca protested defensively. She leaned back to look at him while keeping her neck very straight. "I just need some support. I'm not disabled."

"I know you're not," Steve sighed, "but it will be a lot faster if I can carry you."

Becca tightened her jaw, lowered her gaze, and whispered, "Okay."

Picking a person up while jostling them as little as possible turned out to be a tall order. Steve made the transition as smooth as he could. Asking Becca to hold onto his shield seemed to distract her enough to take some of the focus away from her neck while he lifted her. Steve was sure to avoid touching anywhere close to her neck as he carried her through the tunnels.

Becca was making an effort to be quiet throughout the affair, but she clutched the flashlight and shield with so much force that veins stood out on her hands. A short while later Steve noticed blood leaking out of the corner of her mouth from biting her bottom lip so hard. He really wished Becca didn't feel like he would treat her differently if she showed any more signs of pain.

"Having some kind of health problem, it's not a weakness you know."

"I know," snapped Becca.

"Do you? Because you're acting like it is."

"No, I'm not."

"I think you are."

Becca went silent for a minute. Steve looked down in time to see her reach out and trace the edge of the star on the center of his shield.

"After the accident, a lot of people treated me differently. It was like they thought… like they thought I couldn't do anything for myself, like I was 'Becca the Ticking Time Bomb' or something." Becca grimaced. "I hated it."

Steve had been treated that way for most of his life. It got to him sometimes, having everyone tip-toeing around him like he might keel over at any second. He ended up covering as much of his medical problems as he could just to avoid the pitying looks, much for the same reason Steve suspected that Becca had kept this from him.

"I know the feeling."

"Hmm? Oh. Oh yeah." Becca clicked her tongue in disapproval. "I guess you would. Too bad there's not serum for me, huh?"

"You wouldn't want it."

"Why not?"

"Because then I couldn't impress you anymore."

Becca giggled, but broke off in a wheeze when that made her bump against him.

"Sorry," Steve apologized.

"It's f-fine." Becca made a pained sound, but hastily continued, "But you impress me plenty, even when you're not bending metal poles in half."

"Really?" Steve doubted she'd seen him do anything impressive that didn't have a link to the serum.

"No, I'm lying to you." Steve didn't have to look to know Becca was rolling her eyes. "Of course, really. Some – hang on." She coughed. "Ow. Somehow being the total package hasn't turned you into an arrogant dickwad, which in itself is extremely impressive. You're funny. You're also really nice and considerate. Um, something tells me that even if you weren't built of pure muscle and athleticism, you would have come down to look for me anyway, so there's that. And, you know what, since I've already made this awkward, I'm just going to go ahead and say that I think your eyelashes are flawless. And your eyes. And don't tell me those were enhanced because I saw the pictures and they weren't."

Steve was certain his face currently matched the red stripes on his suit. He hadn't expected Becca to go and reel off all those nice things. He was so unused to hearing praise like this that his tongue felt stuck uselessly to the bottom of his mouth. Yeah, people had given him all sorts of compliments when he was on tour, but this sounded more honest and not like she was expecting something out of him in return. Nevertheless, Steve felt that he should say something equally nice back. There was plenty good he could say about Becca, but when Steve thought of saying those things aloud, he felt even more flustered.

"I overdid it, didn't I?" Becca sighed. "Sorry, I'm a bit… fuzzy at the moment."

He had to say something. "Would you want to get coffee sometime?"

"That… What?"

Steve had put the offer out there, so retracting it was out of the question. More to the point, he realized that he didn't want to. He liked Becca, a lot if he was being honest with himself. Somehow, without his much noticing, she had become more than a friend. Of course, that didn't mean Becca felt the same anymore.

"Or, it doesn't have to be coffee. I don't know if you like coffee."

"I… I mean, I like coffee, but…. Are you asking me out?" Becca questioned incredulously. "Like, on a date?"

"Yeah."

"While we're in a sewer?"

"Yeah."

"While I'm covered in sewer water, blood, and god knows what else?"

"Yeah," Steve confirmed, his meager confidence draining.

"On the single weirdest day of my life because there was an _alien invasion_? I do assume you being here means they're gone, by the way."

"They're gone. Listen, if you don't want to go, that's –"

"I would love to go."

Steve glanced at Becca. She beamed up at him with his favorite smile, only the tightness of her jaw betraying that she was in any pain. Steve grinned back. He'd finally gotten a date on his own. It only took ninety-four years.

"After I take a shower though," Becca added. "And get my meds. And sleep."

"I guess I can wait."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

The smaller tunnels were connected without any access ladders to the streets above. Steve retraced Becca's path until they came to a tunnel that was equipped with one. He didn't trust Becca to make the short climb, so he handed her his flashlight and gently shifted her up over one shoulder.

"I feel like a sack of potatoes," Becca huffed, but offered no further protest.

As soon as Steve opened the manhole cover, however, Becca groaned. He froze, sure that he had accidently jostled her the wrong way.

"Ugh, it's… it's bright out."

"Yes it is," Steve agreed, blinking into the light. "I'm going to help you through first, all right? We're not both going to fit."

"Okay. Let's do it."

Gripping the ladder with one hand, Steve guided Becca off of his shoulder. He took the flashlights and his shield from her and tossed them easily onto the street above. Through the grime, Steve saw that Becca's palms were torn up. She turned around and clung onto the metal bars regardless, her hands slipping, slick with sweat. Steve readied himself to catch her, but Becca made it up the three necessary rungs before sitting on the edge and pulling her legs up and through. He climbed up after her.

The ladder brought them out into an alley way. No cars or people passed the mouth of the alley, so they were in a section of the city that had been evacuated. Becca stared toward the sidewalk, her pupils wide despite the sunlight.

"Everything's so quiet. It's freaky."

"Give it twenty-four hours." Steve set the manhole cover back in place. "Once things start getting cleaned up, it'll be busy again."

"What's the damage?"

Steve shrugged. "Some buildings, streets. People got hurt, but the Chitauri didn't make it out of this part of Manhattan."

"The Chi-what?"

"Chitauri. The aliens."

"Oh… At least it was contained I guess." Becca gathered up the flashlights, switching them off. "What happened exactly?"

"Let me get you up and I'll tell you."

Becca dumped the flashlights into the back of his shield, and Steve was allowed to pick her up without protest. He carried her out onto the street and saw the top of Stark Tower off to his left. The signs at the street corner designated 54th and 2nd. Becca had led them northeast by over a mile at a straight shot. Underground the distance had been much longer.

Steve took them in the direction of the tower. Dr. Banner's file had mentioned that he had some medical knowledge even though it wasn't his primary field. Steve would feel better if Dr. Banner examined Becca to make sure that that she would be all right until she could get to a medical doctor. In the meantime, he kept an eye out for a drug store while filling her in on the invasion.

When Steve spotted the drug store a block out of their way, he diverted over to it. He set Becca down next to the door where she leaned against large window, teeth chattering. The store was dark; all power to the area had been knocked out.

"You'd know what you need if you saw it, right?" Steve checked.

"Yes."

Steve pried both sets of doors open. He expected a comment from Becca about breaking into a store, but she didn't say anything. She held out his shield after removing her flashlight and clicking it on. Before he could pick her up, Becca took an unsteady two steps. He caught her around the waist and, because the distance was so short, let her march determinedly to the back of the pharmacy counter.

"What are we looking for?"

"Oxycodone." Becca grabbed one of the shelves, shining light onto the labels. "I'll start on this end. You take the other one."

Steve went to the furthest row of shelves, scanning the labels. Most of the medications had long, scientific names that gave no clue as to their purpose. His light hovered a moment over a box of penicillin shots, the kind that could have saved Ma had they not come a couple years too late, but quickly moved on.

The Oxycodone was stocked in the third row Steve checked. Several white boxes lined one of the shelves, all marked with the medication's name. Steve had no idea which Becca needed, so he went to get her. Becca was standing in the same row where he'd left her, peering at a box in her hand and frowning.

"That it?"

Becca glanced up, dropping the hand with the box. "Oh, uh, yeah. Well, it's not Oxycodone. I sorta need two kinds of medication. It's… it's a long, medical explanation."

Since Becca seemed uncomfortable, Steve didn't ask. All he needed to know was that the medication would help.

"I found the Oxycodone."

"Where?"

Steve led Becca to the correct shelf. She tucked the box she had found under her arm and picked up an Oxycodone box. She opened it and took out a package of round green pills. Her nose wrinkled. She closed up the box and put it back. Steve started to worry that they wouldn't have the right one when Becca scanned the entire section without touching another box.

Finally, Becca selected a box which made her sigh with relief when opened. "Okay. I'm all set."

"Good." Steve wrapped an arm around her waist. "I saw a chair in front of the counter. Come on."

"I'm used to getting these after they've been put in bottles," Becca explained as Steve helped her over to the chair.

"But you're sure they're the right ones?"

"Yes." Becca sank into the chair. She set her flashlight on the table beside her. "I need some water to swallow them though if you wouldn't mind getting a bottle."

Steve propped up his shield against her chair. "Sure."

A refrigeration unit had been set in part of the wall towards the front of the drugstore. Condensation spotted the glass from the rising temperature inside. Steve took out a bottle of tepid water and brought it to Becca.

Leaving Becca to take the medication, Steve wandered down an aisle with medical supplies. The wounds on Becca's hands had been exposed for too long. He wasn't sure if cleaning them now would do much good, but it was worth a try. He grabbed rubbing alcohol and a packet of gauze bandages.

Becca was taking small sips of water out of the bottle when Steve returned. Already her teeth had stopped chattering.

"What's that for?" Becca questioned.

"Your hands." Steve knelt in front of her. He took off his gloves and put them aside with his flashlight before tearing off a strip of gauze.

Becca turned over an empty hand, throwing shadows over the wounded palm. "I guess they're not looking so great. If they were going to get infected though, it's probably already happened."

"Well, let's cover them anyway." Steve poured a bit of alcohol on the strip and held Becca's wrist in place.

"Okay. At least they've closed up most of the way 'cause –" Steve pressed the strip against the torn skin, and Becca winced. "Holy sh-mmm."

"You were saying?"

"Never mind."

Steve rubbed at the filth on Becca's hands. The skin underneath was pink and red. Thin scratches ran across her fingers and most of her palm, probably from catching herself while falling. There was also a thick tear across her palm surrounded by blisters.

"This is deep," Steve noted, moving Becca's hand further into the beam of her flashlight. "Did you cut yourself on something?"

"No. I mean, I'm pretty sure no. I fell a few times. This uh…"

When she didn't finish the sentence, Steve glanced up. Shame colored Becca's face. She chewed her bottom lip and, he felt her fingers twitch, curving as if to cover the tear. Steve went back to cleaning her hand and waited.

Steve had a long strip of gauze partially wrapped around her palm when Becca spoke up.

"I flipped out on an alien."

Steve kept wrapping up her palm. "What happened?"

"Um, well, I was with Agent Greaves and we were caught in a tunnel. A bunch of those Chi…Chi…"

"Chitauri," Steve supplied gently.

"Chitauri were coming, so she told me to run. And I did, but then I thought she might need help so I went to look. I mean, her gun must have run out of bullets or something because two of the Chitauri had her cornered."

Steve tied a knot to keep the gauze in place. "I'm listening, but I need your other hand."

Becca set down the water bottle and held the hand out. It too was torn across the palm.

"I yelled to create a distraction, and they all ended up in the water, even Agent Greaves. They were fighting, and I saw the guns floating there. I thought I could use one so I went back, but I couldn't figure out how the stupid thing worked so I just threw it." Becca laughed, a laugh that Steve could hear was on the verge of tears. "I really thought it worked. The Chitauri was so distracted that Agent Greaves got its neck. But then she turned around and… and…"

Steve hadn't given Becca enough credit when he was in the sewers. He had assumed that the Chitauri with the broken neck had managed to get off a last shot as Agent Greaves broke its spine. He didn't consider that Becca would have run back to help. Very few people would have. Still, as much as strength as Becca had for going back, Steve knew that seeing a person get killed before your eyes hit hardest the first time. He didn't imagine having to deal with the reality of an alien invasion made the situation any easier.

Becca sniffed, pressing the bandaged hand over her mouth. Unwilling to ignore the tears welling up in her eyes, Steve set down the alcohol-soaked gauze and cupped the side of her face.

"You did everything right. Sometimes people can't be saved, and it's not your fault."

Becca curled her fingers away from her lips. "But I didn't do everything right because… There was one of the Chitauri left so I picked up this stick thing they had and I… I hit it. Over and over." Tears spilled, falling down her cheeks and wetting the inside of Steve's thumb. "I was so angry. I didn't even care when it died. I didn't even _notice_. I just kept hitting."

Returning from battle, Steve had seen soldiers trembling, shocked at what they had done. He'd seen men stagger into barracks to hide their tears and guilt. He'd seen them break, unable to handle the cost of war. Because there was a cost, not just in lives lost and demolished buildings, but to those who fought and came out alive. Becca had discovered this the hard way, but Steve wouldn't let it eat at her.

"What happened down there, you don't have to feel guilty. That Chitauri, it would have killed you." Steve brushed his thumb over Becca's cheek, wiping away the track of tears. "When you see someone good go down, it hurts and it makes you angry. This time you lost control, but that doesn't make you a bad person. Becca, you are one of the nicest people I have ever met. And that's in ninety-four years."

Becca gave him a tiny smile. "I don't think a lot of those years count."

"If you get to tease me about being old, then they're going to count."

Becca arched an eyebrow, but her smile grew. Steve tore off a piece of gauze and offered it to her in place of a handkerchief. At least he had her smiling. While Becca blew her nose and mopped up her tears, Steve cleaned the rest of her palm and wrapped it.

"Thank you," said Becca as he tied off the gauzed. "Not just for this." She turned her hand, catching his in a light grip. "For everything."

"You're welcome."

The way Becca looked at him heated the back of his Steve's neck, a heat that only increased when her gaze flicked down to his lips. Steve swallowed, eyes widening. She was going to kiss him. Steve knew it with the same, abrupt clarity which told him that he would return the kiss. As Becca leaned forward, Steve's breath hitched expectantly.

But when Becca tilted her head, she winced and flinched back. She sucked in a sharp, pained breath.

"You all right?" Steve asked and immediately realized how dumb the question was.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. The meds take a bit to kick in fully." Becca rubbed her upper arm with embarrassment.

"Right."

Steve felt a bit embarrassed himself. Yet, although silence fell awkwardly between them, Steve couldn't help but notice that Becca still held his hand. He traced a gentle finger across her knuckles causing Becca to smile faintly, which drew his attention to the cut on her upper lip.

"We should clean that cut on your lip."

"Oh." Becca touched it. "Yeah, probably. And then maybe my face, but let's use water for that."

Steve scrubbed off the dried blood from Becca's lip. He tore a long strip of gauze, which Becca soaked in water and used to wash her face. The water revealed a bruise darkening the skin from above her left eyebrow almost to her hairline, but it was too late for ice even if the store had any. Becca rubbed gingerly at her nose, but stated that it didn't feel broken. Her cheeks were pink when she finished, but no longer in an unhealthy flush.

"You know, your face is pretty dirty, too," Becca remarked as Steve rubbed at a missed spot near her chin. "But somehow dirt works on you. It's really not fair."

"Sorry."

"Is that your secret superpower? Looking good at all times?"

"You caught me." Steve gathered up the used gauze and went behind the counter in search of a trashcan. "It makes getting ready in the morning so much faster. It used to take forever to put my face on."

"Is that why you were so cute?" Becca giggled. "And here I thought it was all natural."

"No, it was all in the mascara." Steve pitched the gauze in a trashcan tucked under the counter. "I couldn't go anywhere without it."

Becca's broke into laughter. "It's… it's really a lifesaver, isn't it?"

"It sure is. And don't even get me started on rouge."

That comment sent Becca into another fit of laughter, hugging her sides to keep from shaking too hard. Steve leaned on the counter and grinned. Becca really seemed much better. He wrote a note on a pad of paper behind the cash register with a brief explanation and a promise to return with payment.

While Becca sipped her water in a failing attempt to stifle the laughter, Steve took the remainder of the gauze and rubbing alcohol and placed them next to the note. Hopefully, someone else could use them. Becca had tucked the boxes of medication away in her suit jacket. Steve thought that was for the best as he wasn't sure when she would be able to get more.

All the doctors in the city were going to be overly busy for some time. Even though Becca looked better, Steve still wanted her to see a doctor as soon as possible to be sure she was truly all right. S.H.I.E.L.D. might have an agent with medical training in the area. There had been one he'd seen in his first week after waking up.

"If you're feeling up to it, we should go," Steve said once Becca had stopped laughing.

Becca nodded and drained the water bottle. "Okay."

Steve brought the bottle over to the trash. When he looked up, Becca was standing with her flashlight steady in her hand.

"You look better," Steve observed, tugging his gloves on and gathering up his flashlight and shield.

"I feel better. Not one hundred percent, but better."

Becca wrapped an arm around his, but as she usually did when they walked. Steve didn't have to support her. They left the drug store, pausing outside so that Steve could close the doors.

"So do you have your motorcycle around here somewhere?" Becca studied the surrounding area like his bike might suddenly appear. "I'd like to get to my apartment, but traffic must be murder uptown unless they've banned everyone from driving."

Steve pushed on the outside set of doors to check that they were shut properly. "We're going to Stark Tower. There should be people there who can help. Don't worry. We'll get you back." Steve turned to find Becca gaping at him, aghast.

"Stark Tower? So like... Tony Stark will be there?"

"Well, it is his tower." Steve wasn't sure what the problem was until Becca looked down at her clothes. "You're fine. Besides, unless everyone's got a hold of new clothes and a shower, they're just as covered in dirt and everything else."

"Everyone? _Everyone?_ So the whole superhero team is going to be there and I smell like a sewage pipe?" Becca squeaked. She jabbed a finger at the drug store entrance. "Open those doors."

Trying not to smile at the sheer panic on Becca's face, Steve scooped an arm around her waist and guided her away from the doors.

Becca tried to go back. "At least let me get a brush. My hair must be a mess."

"No one is going to say anything."

Becca stopped trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but continued to frown. "But –"

"If anyone makes a comment, then we'll have a problem. But they won't."

Steve was, in fact, fairly certain that Stark would make some kind of joke, but he wasn't going to worry Becca with that. She was already attempting with limited success to comb her fingers through her tangled hair as she chewed fretfully on her bottom lip. Steve could tell that she didn't believe him, so he tried another tactic.

"They asked about you earlier."

"The team?"

"Mhm. They asked if you were nice. And pretty."

"Oh?" Becca seemed to forget about her hair, gazing up at him with barely contained curiosity.

"I said that you were the best girl in New York." Those hadn't been Steve's exact words in the moment, but he now knew they were true enough. Besides, his words had the intended effect.

Becca's eyes widened. "You said that?"

"It was along those lines."

"Well…" Becca flushed. "I guess as long as you think so."

"I do."

Steve was rewarded with a pleased smile. For that smile alone, Steve was glad that he had found Becca all those weeks ago. Or rather that she had found him. Somehow, this felt less like the usual story where the hero rescues the girl and gets her at the end of the day. Yeah, he had gotten Becca safely out of the sewers. Yeah, Becca had agreed to a date. But only after she had sprinted into his life, thrust a hand through the confusion of the twenty-first century, and given him a lifeline. Becca caught him staring and winked. Steve smiled softly. It wasn't a one-sided rescue. They were there for each other.

"One thing though," said Becca as they strolled toward Stark Tower.

From the look in her eyes, Steve could already tell that she was about to tease him. "What?"

"Just New York?"

Steve laughed.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Well, Steve figured it out. Because there's nothing quite like almost losing someone to an alien invasion to make you realize that they're something special.**

**Much thanks to everyone reviewing, favouriting, following, and reading. **


	12. Assemble

Becca attempted once again to untangle a clump of hair with her fingers as Stark Tower loomed up over her. Even if she managed to piece apart the knot, she doubted it would be much of an improvement. One glimpse of her reflection in a passing window showed Becca that her hair was going to be a puffy disaster until she got her hands on conditioner and a brush.

"You look fine," said Steve for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"I look like a cat coughed me up," Becca sighed, wincing as she yanked a few strands from her scalp. She had enough of a headache without adding to it.

Steve rested a hand on her shoulder. "I think you were less nervous when I brought you to the woods near that summer camp."

"I'm pretty sure I _was_ less nervous." Becca gave up on the knot. "I've just never met anyone famous before. Knowingly," she corrected as Steve opened his mouth to contradict her. "And even if I wasn't covered in… whatever, I know I can come across as a bit much sometimes."

"You?" asked Steve in mock incredulity.

Becca arched an eyebrow. "I'm gonna let that slide because you actually put up with my much-ness."

"Well, I have to tell you, next to Stark you don't seem 'a bit much' at all."

Becca supposed that was probably true. She had seen enough interviews and newspaper headlines to know that Tony Stark said and did whatever he liked whenever he wanted. Sure, she sometimes ran her mouth off too far, but never at the expense of someone else's feelings. Becca only teased people that she knew could handle it. From what she'd seen, Tony was an entirely different story.

"You are aware that Tony Stark is definitely going to make some kind of comment, right?" Becca checked. "Because you keep saying it's going to be fine, but I haven't even met the man and I know he has no filter."

Steve's grip on her shoulder tightened. "If he says anything, it's not worth listening to."

Becca tipped her head to look up at the tower. "Actually, I think the best thing for my nerves is that he says something most people would think was rude."

"Really?"

"Mhmm. 'Cause then I can make a comment right back. I know you explained that he saved New York from that missile, but I've got a few years of material that proves he's kind of a dick."

"He can be something all right," Steve chuckled.

Chitauri bodies littered the street more densely as they approached Stark Tower, which made sense as the portal had opened right above the tower. Becca had been trying to avoid looking at them directly since they'd first passed one on the corner beyond the pharmacy. The sight of the dead Chitauri made her queasy.

Despite the bodies, police were letting some people back into relatively clear areas. Steve had spoken to an officer briefly. He had returned his borrowed flashlight with the officer's promise to bring it to the correct man. It must be nice to have a good enough memory to be able to recall a random squad car number. If Steve told her that he remembered every single thing since he'd been injected with the serum, Becca had no reason not to believe him.

Two men flanked the entrance to Stark Tower. The middle aged man was dressed in maroon sweater and loafers. Becca wouldn't have pegged him as an agent had he not been speaking so calmly into a phone in the midst of all the destruction. He must have run straight out the door in whatever he'd had on. His partner had the look Becca expected: thirties, suit, stone-face. Further along the street, a female agent spoke with a cluster of police officers. Becca clutched Agent Greaves' flashlight more tightly. Steve had told her that the agent's death wasn't her fault, but the fact remained that Agent Greaves might have been alive if not for her.

"Captain Rogers. Miss Stroud."

Becca started at the sound of her name. She instinctively moved to shake the younger agent's hand, but he was focused on Steve.

"Agent Finch is upstairs. She's been given the lead until Director Fury arrives. I'm sure she'll want to speak with you."

"Understood," said Steve with a nod.

"I'll let her know you're coming."

For all the devastation outside, the lobby was surprisingly undamaged. Becca followed Steve over to a set of golden elevator doors. She didn't see any call button, but since Steve had chosen this specific elevator she went ahead an assumed that Agent Finch would send one down.

"Who's Agent Finch?"

"I don't know," Steve confessed. "I've never met her."

"Well, I guess we'll find out together then."

Becca took the opportunity to scrutinize her reflection in the doors. She tucked the flashlight into the inner pocket of her suit jacket next to the boxes of medication. She straightened the jacket and tugged on the ends of her sleeves. Most of the wrinkles would take more than a bit of pressure to come out, but a few disappeared. At least her face was clean and her clothes had dried enough to reduce the smell. When brushing her hair back with her nose almost pressed to the elevator door, Becca realized that Steve had removed his hand from her shoulder without her noticing. She glanced over that shoulder to find Steve watching her with amusement.

"I don't what you think is so funny. I'm trying to help you out here," stated Becca, peering once more at her reflection. "If you said good things about me and I turn up looking like I've taken up dumpster diving, you're going to lose your hero cred."

"My hero cred?"

"Yup. I did some research while I was coming to terms with the whole 'Captain America' thing, and you've got a rep as the poster child for –" Becca set her hands on her hips and struck a heroic pose. "–_truth_." The elevator doors opened to a brown and white tiled interior. Becca dropped the pose and stepped in. "So you're welcome."

Steve got in as well, and the doors slid shut. "Thanks. Whatever you read though, there's probably stuff in there that's been a bit exaggerated."

"Well, yeah. They'd have me believe you are America incarnate." Becca shook her head as though she had been greatly let down. "I haven't had to listen to one rant about the importance of the Constitution or the ways in which the US is the very embodiment of the spirit of freedom. It's very disappointing."

Steve laughed. "I'm sorry. I promise, first chance I get, I'll give you my speech on the Founding Fathers."

"Good because so far you've been slacking." Becca grinned. "Either that or you're going senile in your old age."

"Hilarious."

As the elevator continued to climb, Becca's dissipated nervousness began to coil its way back around her stomach. When it came to meeting people, she preferred being thrown in by chance. All this extra time made her edgy. She almost leaned against the elevator wall before remembering that she was filthy. Becca breathed in through her nose. It wasn't like she was liable to see these people after today. The only person she'd see again was Steve, and he'd asked her on a date so his opinion of her was clear. However the date turned out, getting asked out by a superhero in a sewer after an alien invasion was going to be one of those stories for the ages. Becca thought the date would turn out fine though, or even better than fine. All she had to do was focus on that date and she could get through the rest of this day.

Of course, the moment Becca stepped off of the elevator she got distracted. There had definitely been a fight in this room. Several of the floor-to-ceiling windows had been knocked out, and the concrete floor had a huge gouge in the middle of it.

Across from the elevator a group of four people were chatting. Becca noticed them first because one person had a bow slung across his back. So that was Agent Barton. Agent Romanoff must be the woman next to him because she had cropped red hair and a cat suit which screamed that this woman could kick ass. Becca smiled hesitantly as their gazes landed on her. Agent Romanoff nodded in greeting while Agent Barton returned her smile. Becca blew out a relieved breath.

The argument happening on her left drew Becca's attention next. Five more people were clustered in a tight horseshoe formation with their backs to Becca. The man speaking to them was undoubtedly Thor. Even if she hadn't asked Steve to describe the Norse god, Becca would have known based on the fact that he looked like he could squish someone into a ball with the strength in his massive arms. The one responsible for the invasion stood right next to him, restrained with thick cuffs around his wrists.

Loki met her gaze, lips stretching into a smirk. He didn't need to say a word. His expression conveyed how much her appearance amused him and how this was all very beneath him. The urge to stalk over and punch him in his smug face tore up through Becca with a speed that horrified her. She quickly looked away, but not before Steve must have noticed. He shifted around Becca and planted himself between her and Loki.

Steve wasn't the only one to observe Loki's change in interest. The woman with whom Thor had been arguing turned sharply around, leaving another agent to pick up the conversation. She was the oldest S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Becca had yet to see, but there was a preciseness and subtle power behind her walk that made Becca think this woman could fight a mountain lion and come out on top. Her dark, curly hair was cropped close to her head, making her appear even sleeker than her thin frame would suggest. Never mind fighting a mountain lion. This woman looked like she was raised by them. It wasn't hard to guess that this was Agent Finch.

"Captain Rogers, I'm Agent Finch." She shook Steve's hand. "Miss Stroud, glad to see you've been found."

Agent Finch was the third person today to know Becca's name without an introduction, and it was starting to really weird Becca out. Nevertheless, she smiled and held out a hand.

"Thanks. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Agent Finch grasped Becca's bandaged hand lightly and shook it. "I'm sure you want to get home, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to sit tight. There's been a path cleared for emergency vehicles, but even so it will be quite difficult to reach your apartment."

Becca bit back a sigh. She had really been looking forward to a shower, new clothes, and sleep. Also, she was hoping to find that Ally was unharmed and had made her way home. Then, assuming the internet worked under the flood of people undoubtedly jamming it up, she'd have to use social media to contact her other friends. Becca had borrowed Steve's phone in order to let her parents know she was all right, but she had no way of knowing about her friends since she didn't remember their numbers offhand. Still, she knew getting rescue vehicles in and out of the area was much more important.

"Of course. I understand."

"Very good. I'll have someone ask Mr. Stark if there is a place you can wait."

"Um." Becca looked around and realized that they probably didn't want her here with official "secret" S.H.I.E.L.D. business going down. She had expected to be questioned about Agent Greaves, but it seemed as though she wouldn't have to recount that story for the moment. "Sounds good."

"I will ask Mr. Stark if you would like," offered a disembodied and British-sounding voice. Becca glanced around, but couldn't find an immediate source for the voice.

"Thank you, JARVIS," said Agent Finch, clearly not at all perturbed by the voice from nowhere.

"Is Dr. Banner still with Stark, ma'am?" Steve asked.

Agent Finch nodded in confirmation. "Do you need to speak with him?"

"Unless you have any trained medical officers here, I'd like him to see Becca."

"Oh, that's really not necessary," spluttered Becca as Agent Finch examined her like she might have missed a gaping wound. "I'm fine."

"Just to be sure." The expression on Steve's face told Becca that he wasn't going to give her a choice.

"Okay."

"JARVIS, if you could also ask for Dr. Banner?" requested Agent Finch.

"Yes, ma'am," replied the voice.

Becca inspected the ceiling for speakers, at which Steve explained, "JARVIS is some kind of system of Stark's. I don't really know how it works, but it can understand you and respond."

"Oh, that makes more sense." Vague as Steve's description was, Becca thought JARVIS sounded like artificial intelligence technology, which if anyone could create a large scale version of, Tony Stark would be the one to do it.

"Now, if you don't mind Miss Stroud, I need to speak with Captain Rogers," asserted Agent Finch.

Steve looked like he was trying to decide if _he _minded, but Becca touched his arm before he could speak. He had done more than enough for her today.

"I don't mind at all." Becca tilted her head and smiled up at Steve. "Go put that hero cred to work. I'll be okay."

Steve hesitated, but ultimately nodded and deferred to Agent Finch. They moved off.

Becca crossed her arms and trained her eyes on the windows, but she couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Thor and the cluster of agents. From what she gathered, they were having a difficult time agreeing over the best way to transport Loki from the tower to a secure location. Loki remained quiet, which came as a surprise as Steve had given her the impression that he liked the sound of his own voice. She might have thought the failed invasion had shut him up if he hadn't been so goddamn smug.

Against her better judgment, Becca peeked over at the two gods. She should be acting disinterested, but these were mythological figures in the flesh. Between the agents she got a glimpse of Thor's hammer. What had it been called? Something with a strange pronunciation. It looked like a war hammer out of _Skyrim_, so she didn't have that much trouble picturing Thor using it to call down lighting.

According to Steve, Loki could use magic, which was theoretically awesome if he'd used it for anything else besides an attempt to take over Earth. Becca made the mistake of making eye contact with him again. Loki had such an irritating, superior smirk. She wondered if he'd get the gist if she flipped him off, but decided not to give him the satisfaction of thinking he'd gotten to her. Instead, she lifted her chin, feigning boredom, and turned away.

When the elevator doors at last opened, they revealed Tony Stark lounging against the back of the elevator next to a man that Becca took for Dr. Banner.

"Hi," she greeted.

Tony looked her over as though he was expecting someone different, which immediately made Becca's friendly smile dampen.

"You're Becca?"

"Yeah." Becca got into the elevator when he gestured for her.

"Don't worry, Cap," Tony called as Steve moved towards the elevator. "She's not going far."

Becca waved a goodbye as the elevator doors shut in Steve's face.

"Down three, JARVIS."

"Yes, sir."

Tony eyed Becca's ruined clothes. "Seems like you need a shower more than a doctor."

He had this expression on his face like she was the best joke he'd seen all day, but Becca decided to be patient through one comment, partially because this was his tower she was staying in and partially because he wasn't wrong.

"I took cover down in the sewers during the invasion."

"That would explain the smell." Becca flushed, but Tony went on. "So what's the deal with you and Spangles? Isn't he a little old for you?"

Becca crossed her arms. "I hardly think you can judge considering all the younger women _you've _been with."

"So you are 'with' him?"

"I didn't say that." The last thing Becca wanted was for Tony to go back to Steve and make it seem like she had blown the plans for a date into something much bigger.

"Not your type?" Tony shrugged. "Can't say I blame you. He'd probably take you from holding hands to wedding rings before things could get interesting."

Becca didn't love the turn this had taken, and the annoyance made her snap, "It could be worse. I could have a one night stand with an egomaniac who probably spends more time in front of a mirror in one morning than he does considering other people's feelings in a week."

Well, she hadn't meant to be quite that harsh. It was just that Tony had always been one of those celebrities that got under her skin. Becca clenched her teeth. She should apologize, although Tony didn't seem that insulted. If anything, he was now studying her with more consideration than amusement.

"Sounds just like him, doesn't she?" Tony noted to Dr. Banner who held a hand up to signal he'd rather not be a part of this conversation.

Was he talking about Steve? Becca wondered what Steve had said to him. Moreover, she wished she had been there to hear it. Becca felt a little better about snapping, knowing that Tony had gotten to Steve as well.

The elevator came to a stop and opened onto a wide room with a high ceiling. Like the lounge upstairs, huge windows ran along one wall while the other walls were made of polished wood. The floor consisted mostly of concrete, but a plush white rug had been set up near the elevator with glass table and assorted leather furniture on top of it. A row of shelves hung from the back wall near a long, sleek desk that denoted the area as a workspace. The aesthetic was super modern, unsurprisingly, like the grand finale of IKEA showrooms. Becca did think the bed of flowers by the elevator was a nice touch though. It made the room a tad homier.

"First door is a bathroom with shower." Tony pointed to the door as if Becca could have missed it. "Look down a bit and to your left, handles in the wall. That's a closet. Pepper has some clothes in there. I don't think they'll fit, but take what you like."

"Thank you." Becca was so excited at the prospect of being clean that she added, "And about what I said, I –"

Tony waved dismissively. "I've heard worse. Banner, once you're done, give JARVIS a call. I'll round up the rest of the team, and we're heading for shwarma."

"All right," agreed Dr. Banner, as he left the elevator with Becca. He indicated the cluster of furniture. "Should we take a seat?"

As they walked to the leather chairs, Becca glanced over Dr. Banner and found that she couldn't picture him turning into the huge green thing she'd seen in blurry photos smashing through Harlem. He came off as the total opposite of angry, rampaging monster.

"So I'm actually feeling fine," stated Becca once they were seated. She showed her hands to him. "Steve put some alcohol on these and wrapped them up."

"You must have done worse than scratch them," guessed Dr. Banner, indicating the thin scrape marks on her uncovered fingers.

"Yeah, but they're not bleeding anymore." Becca folded her hands and dropped them into her lap. "I know I need to go see a doctor and get some tests done in case I caught anything. Since you can't do that though, I don't think you can help me."

"Well, I'd suggest you start taking antibiotics in the meanwhile, since the hospitals are going to be full." Dr. Banner glanced up to the bruise on her forehead in a way that was worrying. "Did you fall at any point, Becca?"

"Yeah."

"And hit your head?"

"I think it was more my face."

"Was there any dizziness? Vomiting?"

Becca hesitated since an answer would involve discussing her medication. "I mean, I already felt that way before I fell. I'm on painkillers, but I'd lost them. As soon as I got my meds again, I felt much better."

"Did you pass out after falling?"

Becca pursed her lips. Clearly, Dr. Banner thought she had experienced a concussion. She might have agreed if the medication hadn't wiped out the symptoms. Sure, her head still ached a bit, but who wouldn't have a headache after the day she'd had? And even if she did have a concussion earlier, she was all right now.

"Yes," Becca admitted with a shrug. "I get the concern, but like I said, I'm as okay as it's possible to be at the moment. Minus the fact that I'm covered in grossness, but fortunately the cure for that is in that bathroom."

Dr. Banner smiled slightly. "You seem well enough, but I think it'd be a good idea, if you're not getting to a hospital right away, to at least have someone with you for the next twenty-four hours as a precaution. It's possible you have a concussion."

Great. Becca frowned. This was going to be the accident all over again, and she knew exactly who was going to volunteer for the job of keeping an eye on her.

"You really think that's necessary?" Dr. Banner nodded. Of course he did. "Well… Tony said the team's going to get shwarma, and I want Steve to go with you guys. He deserves a break, and then I'm sure he's got other stuff S.H.I.E.L.D. will need him for, so could you just… find the least busy agent and tell them instead?"

Dr. Banner leaned back in his chair, discomforted. "I don't know."

"Please? I'm not asking you to lie to him. When Steve asks, tell him I seem fine and that there's an agent with me in case I need anything."

After a minute of hesitation, Dr. Banner got to his feet and said, "I'll get an agent."

"Thank you." He hadn't promised not to tell Steve, but Becca was afraid to push. "Have a good time. Enjoy the shwarma."

"Thanks." Dr. Banner made his way towards the elevator. "JARVIS?"

"Sending the elevator for you now," JARVIS promptly replied.

Becca picked at the gauze wrapped around her hand. She wasn't going to be able to wear it in the shower. The shower! She was so pumped to be clean. Becca stood up and hurried over to the bathroom, hoping that when she came out the person waiting for her would be an agent.

* * *

The trek back from Shwarma Palace was as silent as the meal had been. Steve had thought he wasn't too tired, but the exhaustion seemed to be catching up with him. The rest of the team must have felt the same because they hunched in varying states of fatigue as they walked. The invasion may have been over but there was still a lot to be done. Steve wanted to help of course, but he could also use some sleep. The food break would have to be enough.

Steve assessed the buildings they passed, deciding where he could be the most useful, although Finch was likely to make direct suggestions upon their return. At the sight of a blonde woman sitting next to an EMT, his thoughts drifted to Becca. He wondered if she would still be at Stark Tower upon his return.

Dr. Banner had explained that he thought Becca might have sustained a concussion and should be under observation for the next twenty-four hours. When further questioned, he had admitted that it would be best to take her to a hospital. Agent Finch had agreed to have an agent escort Becca to a nearby hospital before Steve volunteered. Steve's first instinct had been to go with Becca anyway, as he was sure the agent wouldn't stay, but Dr. Banner had informed him that Becca was insistent that she would be all right on her own. That was not the reason Steve had remained with the team. Rather, he had realized that his presence would do nothing more for Becca, but he was needed elsewhere. She would be safe in a hospital.

"Elevator up to 76, JARVIS," Tony ordered when the team reached the lobby.

They waited for the elevator while Steve pondered. He hadn't been gone too long, and Dr. Banner had said Becca was taking a shower. Judging by the amount she had worried over her appearance, the shower would last a while. He could at least see her off.

"What floor is Becca on?"

Stark grinned. "She's still with us on 73, right JARVIS?"

"Actually sir, she left the premises with one Agent Jones fourteen minutes ago," stated JARVIS. "According to the outgoing calls, I believe they were headed for Mount Sinai Medical Center."

Steve thought that was for the best. Hopefully, there would be someone available to see her in what was certain to be a very busy hospital.

From behind Steve's shoulder, Thor asked, "Is your friend unwell?"

"Uh…" Steve glanced on impulse at Dr. Banner. "Hopefully not."

"It's just a precaution," confirmed Dr. Banner.

The elevator doors opened, and the team squeezed into the elevator together. Steve shuffled as close to the wall as he could to avoid stepping on Barton.

"So what's the deal with you and Becca anyway?" Tony questioned.

"Deal?" repeated Steve, wishing the conversation would turn in a different direction.

"He said 'friend,' but that wasn't the look she gave him," volunteered Barton.

"Or he gave her," Romanoff added. "If you asked her out, I think she'd say yes."

"I don't know," said Stark, leaning against the back railing. "I think you need someone less uptight to balance you out."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Are you saying Becca is uptight?"

"Yeah. I barely said a word to her, and she called me a…" Stark tapped Dr. Banner on the arm. "What was it?"

Dr. Banner shook his head in an attempt to recall. "I think it was 'an egomaniac who spends more time in front of a mirror than,' uh…"

"Miss Stroud stated that you were, 'an egomaniac who probably spends more time in front of a mirror in one morning than he does considering other people's feelings in a week,' sir," JARVIS supplied.

It surprised Steve that Becca had said something so harsh. But then, he supposed if anyone was going to bring out the worst in a person, Stark would be the one to do it. Steve had said his fair share of choice words in irritation.

The elevator went silent until Romanoff noted, "Well, that just proves she's not spineless."

"Aw, come on. We knew that," said Barton. "Didn't you see that bored look she gave Loki? He actually looked pissed for a second." He grinned with satisfaction.

"You should ask her." Romanoff shifted to survey Steve's face. "You're not too shy are you?"

Thor rose to his defense. "There is no shame in shyness. On Asgard, we have a –"

"I already asked," Steve interrupted, hoping that would end the conversation, but instead felt the weight of expectant stares. "We're going to get coffee." Stark snorted. Eyes narrowing, Steve looked over at him. "Is that a problem?"

Stark smiled indulgently. "Not if you want a boring date."

"Well, hang on," Romanoff interjected. "How long have you known Becca?"

"Uh, about a month," Steve replied.

"Hmmm." Romanoff shrugged a shoulder. "Getting coffee is nice. There's nothing wrong with it, but…"

"You've past the point of coffee as a first date, Cap," Barton finished for her.

If Stark had been the only one to protest, Steve would have ignored him, but now he thought that he might have made a mistake. He'd seen plenty of couples getting coffee, so he had assumed that it was an acceptable first date. However, his knowledge of dating in today's world was severely limited. Becca hadn't said there was anything wrong with getting coffee, although he anxiously recalled how confused she had seemed by his offer.

Before Steve had a chance to ask what _was_ deemed acceptable as a first date, the elevator came to a stop. He hadn't much desired to talk about his relationship with Becca in front of the team, but he definitely preferred not to discuss it in front of various S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Besides, there were more pressing tasks that needed his full attention.

"You'll think of something," Romanoff assured him as she stepped out of the elevator.

Thor clapped Steve on the shoulder as the team exited. "You need not worry. Becca has agreed to this date because of you, yes?" He patted Steve's shoulder. "So it will matter not where you take her."

"Thanks," said Steve, but he remained unconvinced.

There was so much to be done that Steve couldn't dwell on the matter for long. After changing out of his filthy suit, he cleared streets of heavy Chitauri chariots and fallen debris. He maneuvered through buildings that had become structurally unsound or severely damaged in search of people trapped inside. He loaded bodies into trucks. Steve took on whatever the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents or emergency responders needed help with until it was late into the night.

"Go home, Captain," instructed Agent Finch when she found him pitching chunks of cement into the back of a dump truck. "We can't clear everything in one night."

"Yes, ma'am."

Steve picked up his shield and waved to the cleanup crew. He was completely exhausted. His body ached from overuse. Often he had trouble sleeping, but Steve knew that he could lay down anywhere and pass out for a number of hours. There was just one more stop he wanted to make before heading to the apartment.

Mount Sinai Medical Center teemed with activity, even during the late hour. Steve passed by the emergency room entrance, the room beyond packed with people waiting to be seen, and went through the main entrance. He waited in a line of visitors, all fretfully concerned with getting to their injured friends and family.

"How can I help you?" asked the receptionist when Steve reached the front of the line.

"I'd like to see Becca Stroud."

After clicking a few keys, the receptionist stated, "It seems that there's restricted access to her room. What's your name?"

"Steve Rogers."

"All right, well it looks –" The receptionist's eyes went wide. She gaped up at him, and stammered out, "L-looks like you're on the list." She picked up a clipboard with a visitor's log and placed it in from of him. "If you could sign in." Steve glanced at a clock on the desk and copied down the time and his name. The receptionist took the clipboard back with wide eyes. "She's on the seventh floor, Room 721."

Steve walked over to the elevator, ignoring the stares and murmuring around him. A few phones turned towards him, snapping pictures, but Steve said nothing. According to Agent Finch, photos and videos had already been taken of him during the invasion. S.H.I.E.L.D. had to release a statement. The truth was out. These people seemed more in awe than ready to crowd him, which was fine with Steve. He wasn't sure how much enthusiasm he would have been able to muster up.

As it turned out, enough. Once in the elevator, a man turned to Steve and thanked him, shaking his hand. The gesture broke a dam, and everyone in the elevator wanted to shake hands and offer words of gratitude. Steve smiled at all of them, accepting their thanks and wishing them luck with their injured loved ones. He had never grown used to the attention, but he had learned to manage it. All the same, he found that he already missed the anonymity.

On the seventh floor, Steve asked a nurse to direct him to the correct room. He thought it likely Becca was asleep, but he had to check on her. One of the nurses could tell him more afterwards.

The sight of a man stationed outside of Becca's door set Steve on alert, but he then recognized the man as one of the agents that he'd seen in Stark Tower. The agent nodded to Steve in greeting.

"Is she all right?" Steve asked.

The agent shrugged, "There's nothing serious that the doctors are sure of."

"She asleep?"

"Last I checked."

Steve needed to see for himself, so he knocked softly on Becca's door and cracked it open. Becca lay on her side, lit in the glow of the monitor beside her. Her eyes were shut, a blanket pulled up to her shoulders. The sight of her sleeping peacefully was enough.

"Steve?"

Steve paused as he was closing the door and winced. "Yeah, it's me. Go back to sleep."

"No, wait." Becca pushed herself up.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Steve apologized, hesitating in the doorway.

"You didn't. I was pretending 'cause Agent Jones got on my case for watching TV instead of sleeping." Becca waved him in, reveal a palm covered in new bandages. "Come in. You can turn on the lights."

Becca did appear too alert to have been asleep, so Steve entered and flicked on the lights. He pulled out a chair next to the bedside table and sat, propping his shield against a chair leg.

"You look exhausted," Becca noted, inspecting him worriedly. "It was nice of you to come, but I hope you're going home after this."

"I am." Steve noticed that Becca looked rather exhausted as well. Her eyes were glassy, the skin beneath them dark. It made him wonder why she was still awake. "What did the doctor say?"

"Oh, probable grade three concussion, but they did some scans and said everything looks fine. They also ran some blood tests, but with everything jammed up they said those results wouldn't be in for a few days." Becca shrugged dismissively. "But anyway, do you have six bucks I could borrow?"

Steve blinked at the sudden change in topic. "For what?"

"The subway ride home."

"You're going now?"

"Yeah. It'll be safe. There have got to be police everywhere."

Whether the ride itself would be safe wasn't Steve's primary concern. Dr. Banner had suggested that Becca be under observation for twenty-four hours in case she had suffered a concussion, which apparently she had.

"Did the doctor say it was all right for you leave?" The few seconds of hesitation gave him the answer before Becca even spoke.

"She said it was strongly advised that I stay the night, but I passed all their tests. I'm fine!" Becca ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Listen, I don't know what strings S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled to get me into this room, but I bet you anything there's at least one person in this hospital that could use it more than me."

An image of the crowded emergency room flashed through Steve's mind. If Becca truly was fine, plenty of people were waiting for the space, but Steve didn't like the idea of Becca being alone if anything went wrong.

"Do you know if Ally will be there?"

"I can't be sure, but probably. I finally remembered her number, so I called her up on this phone." Becca indicated a hospital phone on the bedside table. "I talked to her for, like, five seconds before Agent Watch Dog out there made me hang up." She snorted with impatience. "At least I know she's fine. She can buzz me in. She's a light sleeper. I'm sure she'll hear the buzzer."

"How close is your apartment to a hospital?"

"Um… Honestly, I have no idea. Close enough, I'm sure."

There were too many flaws in Becca's plan. If Ally was home and asleep, she might not wake up to let Becca in. If Ally wasn't home, Becca had no way of getting into her apartment short of him breaking the door down. Even if he did break in for her, which he was not inclined to do, and stayed the night so that Becca would have someone around in case of an emergency, getting an ambulance in time could prove difficult.

Steve shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"But someone _needs_ this room," Becca protested, eyes flashing. "I would have left hours ago, but Agent Jones wouldn't let me go. I won't let anyone else die because of me. I won't."

Steve sighed. "Becca, it's not–"

Becca held up a hand. "Please don't. I know you want to help, but I can't talk about it again. Not right now." She lowered her hand and looked at him pleadingly. "Whatever the case, there is someone out there who needs this bed a lot more than I do. Besides, the doctor said I should be resting, but I can't sleep here. I hate being in hospitals. This is the third time I've been stuck in one, and I swear the smell makes me feel ill. And I…" Becca rubbed one of her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry. I know you've had the longest day ever, but, if you have it, please just lend me the subway fare and walk me out of the building. I swear to you I will be okay."

Steve wished he could tell Becca that there wasn't anyone else in the entirety of New York that needed this room, but it wasn't true. The room was no more than an insurance policy for her, except that it prevented her from the sleep the doctor said Becca needed.

"What if I hadn't come to see you?"

"I don't know." Becca twisted the plastic cuff on one of her fingers. "Do you think making a rope out of blankets and using it to climb down the side of this hospital is more or less dangerous than letting me take the subway home?"

Steve was certain that she was joking, but he also believed she was going to keep herself up thinking of other ways to get out of the hospital when what she really needed was sleep. He had a better solution, although having to suggest it made him mildly flustered.

"You could stay at my apartment. It's close by and that way you wouldn't be alone."

Becca gazed at him in surprise, but then she grinned and quirked an eyebrow. "Asking me to spend the night before even one date? And here I thought you were an officer and a gentleman."

"I'd sleep on the couch," Steve mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Um…" Becca chewed her lip pensively, eyes flicking for a moment to the folded blazer on the bedside table. "I mean, that works for me if you're really sure. I don't want it to make you uncomfortable."

"I don't mind."

"Okay. Then I accept."

Becca got to her feet, taking the cuff off of her finger and grabbing the black blazer from the bedside table. She pulled it on over a grey t-shirt, which swallowed her frame entirely except where it stretched across her bust. Between the t-shirt and the too long sleeves of the blazer, the outfit was clearly a borrowed one.

"Stark lend you those?" Steve questioned as they left the room.

"Yeah. There were a couple of outfits, but Pepper Potts is really not my size at all." Becca tugged at the end of the skirt, pulling it down lower. "It's a miracle I fit into this skirt. I think I can hear the seams crying, and that's with it unzipped. I gave up on the shirts and took one of Tony's. I'm going to return it obviously, but I could totally make a gazillion dollars on eBay if I didn't. That's an auction website if you didn't know."

"Right." Steve hadn't known. "A gazillion dollars, huh?"

"Oh yeah." Becca slipped on a set of black heels, one at a time. "Everybody loves him."

"Really? 'Cause I heard that someone thinks he's an egomaniac."

Becca blushed. "He's not mad, is he? I tried to apologize. He was just saying these things, and it was like… Ugh."

"What'd he say to you?"

Becca's blush deepened. "Just things… about my appearance and about… us. Don't worry about it. Water under the bridge."

The tension running through Steve eased. As long as Becca wasn't hurt by whatever Stark had said, Steve wouldn't turn it into an issue. There were other things to be focused on besides picking a fight. He held open the door for Becca. Outside of it, Agent Jones hovered close by.

"Becca's coming with me," Steve announced.

Agent Jones glanced at Becca, then back to Steve. "Did she tell you that they want her under observation for the night?"

"She did," Becca interjected.

"I'll see to it," Steve informed the agent, whose mouth thinned at the arraignment.

Steve got the impression that Agent Jones nearly argued but chose not to voice any complaints. As he and Becca turned around a corner, Steve got a last glimpse of the agent lifting a phone to his ear. A suspicion born when Nick passed off Becca's meeting Agent Greaves as coincidental grew, but Steve was distracted by a nurse rushing towards them.

"Whoops, I probably should have told them I was taking off that cuff." Becca waved. "It's okay. I'm alive."

The nurse made several suggestions for a full recovery as Becca filled out her exit paperwork, suggestions that Steve took careful note of as Becca seemed to be only half-listening. They rode down the elevator, but were stopped by another nurse on the ground floor.

"I think you might want to go out by the ambulance bay," the nurse suggested. "A bunch of reporters found out that you're here and well… We have security to keep the bay open."

"Thank you."

Steve didn't have the energy to deal with reporters nor did he want to subject Becca to the experience. The nurse led them to the bay, and the security guards cleared off a few hopeful, lingering reporters. Steve tucked his shield between himself and Becca so as to be less recognizable.

"So people know," said Becca, hunching her shoulders in the cool night air. "Are you ready for that? Being Captain America again?"

Truthfully, Steve wasn't quite ready for everything. He was ready to put on the suit and help people, but dealing with the fame in a new century was another story. Yet, he'd find out a way to make it work.

"Well, I don't have much choice, but yeah. I think I'm ready."

"Good. As long as you're ready."

They walked to the nearest subway station while Becca questioned him about the shwarma restaurant and cleanup. Sitting on the subway train, exhaustion set in, and Steve had to fight to keep his eyes open. Leaving the hospital had a similar effect on Becca. She kept yawning against the back of her hand. The walk from the subway station to the apartment was made in silence.

"I can't believe you insist on seeing me home every time when you live on the other end of town," said Becca, stifling another yawn as Steve unlocked the door of the apartment.

"It gets me out more," Steve responded, yawning as well.

"Mmmm." Becca surveyed the apartment blearily.

"The bedroom's down there, and that's the bathroom." Steve pointed out the respective rooms.

While he felt ready to drop, he wanted to take a quick shower first. However, Becca went right for the bathroom. Steve took the opportunity to put his shield away in a closet. From his room he retrieved clean clothes to change into after his shower and a blanket from his second set of bedding for his night on the couch.

Becca shuffled into the living room where he was waiting, blazer hanging over the crook of her arm. "Thanks for letting me crash here," she murmured, giving him a brief hug.

"Sure," said Steve, wrapping an arm around her in response. Somehow the warmth of her body made him even more tired.

With another barely muffled yawn, Becca withdrew. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Steve went into the bathroom and peeled off his dirty clothing. He stood under the hot water just long enough to get clean before changing and brushing his teeth. The bedroom door was still open when he left the bathroom. He grabbed the handle, meaning to shut it part ways, only to realize that his bed was empty. He checked the living room.

Sure enough, Becca was stretched out on the couch, asleep. Steve shook his head. Becca hadn't argued when he'd stated that he would take the couch, and he got the feeling that this was her plan all along. Steve intended to move her to his bed, but Becca stirred and groaned softly as he maneuvered his arms beneath her. Rather than wake her, Steve extracted himself and tucked the ends of the blanket carefully around her shoulders. Satisfied that Becca was as comfortable as he could make her, Steve returned to his bedroom. He left the door open ajar so that any sounds of distress would wake him before falling on top of his bed and drifting off.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Agents Finch and Jones are mine. The Avengers are decidedly not. **

**All of the Avengers together at last. Group scenes tend to be tricky, but I was highly amused at the idea of all of them packed into a single elevator then made even more awkward by discussing Steve's love life. On a side note with that, I love Tony Stark even if Becca does not. **

**Thanks for all the continued support! **


	13. The Walls We Build

_The tunnel was black, the beam of her flashlight no more than a pinprick of light in the darkness. Becca ran, her feet splashing in the filthy water. The sounds of alien chattering echoed through the tunnel behind her. She almost turned around to find out how close the Chitauri were, but fear prevented her from doing so. If she looked, the Chitarui would be right behind. Instead, she ran faster. _

_Becca tripped and fell. She scrambled for her flashlight, sweeping the beam over the obstruction that had made her trip. Agent Greaves floated in the water, her face dented inwards and splattered with gore. Becca groaned and struggled to her feet. Keep moving. She whipped around. _

_A Chitauri stood right in front of her. It let out a snarl. Becca staggered back, nearly tripping again over Agent Greaves. Fear pounded behind her skull, setting her teeth chattering. The Chitauri raised its gun towards her. _

_Suddenly, Becca realized that she held a bladed, stick-like weapon in her hand. The sight of it filled her with revulsion. She tried to drop the weapon, but her hands remained firmly grasped around its hilt. Her arms moved of their own accord, hefting the weapon up over her shoulder. _

"_No," Becca moaned. _

_The weapon swung forward and smashed into the Chitauri's face. It screeched out in pain. Becca fought to retreat, but couldn't. She swung again and again as a scream built up in her throat._

* * *

Becca awoke, panting. She sat up and sucked in a shuddering breath. Tears had left warm trails on her cheeks. Becca rubbed at them, swiping more tears away from her eyes. The memory of the Chitauri's mutilated head lingered, making her shiver. She needed air. Becca threw back the blanket and crossed the room to open a window.

Outside a truck rumbled past. A car horn blared in the distance over the sound of emergency sirens. Someone in the apartment across the way was up and watching TV. Raised voices drifted through an open window. Light glowed around the city even in the dead of night, and Becca could make out the shape of Stark Tower against the skyline. She sat in a chair next to the window, folding her arms and resting them on the window sill. She set her head on her arms and let the familiar sounds of the night comfort her as the air cooled the sweat dappling her face.

However, as her panic began to recede, Becca realized that a dull ache had set into the back of her neck. Damn it. The Oxy had to be wearing off and combined with the sleeping on a stiff couch she was in for some serious pain unless she took another dose.

"Becca?" Becca jumped with a gasp. "You all right?"

Careful not to whack her head against the window frame, Becca looked back. Steve had entered the living room without her noticing. She must have woken him up.

"Yeah. I needed some air, that's all." Becca smiled as proof that she was okay. "Go on back to bed." She turned away and leaned on her arms. "I'm fine."

Her words were meant to be a dismissal, but Steve ignored them. Becca listened as he crossed the room, pulled out a chair from the table, and sat next to her. Stubborn. She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. His hair was messy for once, strands sticking out at odd angles. Old timey pajamas had been her expectation, but Steve's nightwear appeared to be real clothes. An army habit or a precaution in case they needed to leave?

"I don't feel sick or anything," Becca assured him, in case he had any ideas about shipping her to the hospital. "Just… trouble sleeping."

"Do you think a bed would help?"

"No."

"I don't mind. I spend a lot of nights on the couch anyway."

Becca lifted her head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Bed's too soft. The couch is firmer." Steve shrugged a shoulder. "Still too soft, but better."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Becca apologized. And here she'd thought sleeping on the couch had been considerate on her part. "Do you want to switch?"

"If you want."

Becca huffed. That wasn't a real answer. She supposed she should give him the couch. However, they obviously had differing opinions because she wouldn't qualify the couch as soft.

"You know what you should do? You should make a pillow fort," suggested Becca.

"The kind that kids make?"

"Um, cool adults can make them, too." Not that Becca had made one since she was a kid, but she had seen pictures of intense forts done by adults. "Throw a blanket over the floor and there you go, sleeping surface that's hard as a rock." She tapped her bare foot on the wooden floorboards. "And then you make an awesome fort around it."

"How hard did you hit your head again?" Steve asked with clear amusement.

"Tch." Becca tapped a fist against Steve's arm. "You're just jealous that you didn't think of it first."

"Yeah, I'm real jealous."

Actually, making a pillow fort sounded like a whole lot of fun. Way better than the prospect of facing another nightmare anyway. Becca eyed the dim room speculatively. There was enough furniture to build an interesting structure.

"We're going to need clothespins and more blankets."

Steve's eyebrows rose. "You're serious?"

"No, I'm Becca. Are you sure you didn't hit _your_ head?" Becca teased and winked. She caught Steve's mouth twitching towards a smile before he suppressed it.

"You're supposed to be resting."

"I'll rest afterwards. This won't take long. I have a vision." Becca spread her hands, imagining the completed fort. She could wait a couple of minutes to take her meds.

"Not to ruin that vision, but I don't have clothespins," Steve relayed, propping an elbow on the table beside him.

"Hmmm." Becca lowered her hands. Then they needed something else to hold the blankets together. "Paperclips?"

"I do have those."

"Problem solved."

Becca got to her feet, mentally shifting the furniture around. She shut the window and lowered the blinds. This fort was going to be great. Steve would see it was a perfectly acceptable sleeping space, even for adults. Sleeping had been the point of this after all… and it was what they were supposed to be doing in the middle of the night.

"Unless you'd rather go back to sleep," Becca amended. "Which is a totally acceptable choice."

Steve's gaze flicked from her to the room like he was weighing the options. Meanwhile, Becca inched towards the floor lamp beside her, the intended centerpiece of the fort. Sure they should be sleeping, but with the idea in her head Becca itched to get started.

"I'll get what I have," Steve relented. He stood and headed towards the bedroom. "Don't lift anything."

Hands already around electric cord of floor lamp, Becca paused. The nurse had told her not to lift anything _heavy_. That Becca could agree with. She was too sore to do much heavy lifting. But the floor lamp wasn't heavy. Mindful that the bandages on her palms made them slippery, Becca shifted the floor lamp to the center of the living room. She set it down carefully so as not to disturb any residents in the apartment below. Her idea was to use the floor lamp like the central pole of a circus tent. They could pin the blankets to the shade and use the surrounding furniture to create the shape of the fort.

When Steve returned, Becca had three wooden chairs set in place including one from the kitchen. He gave her a look of exasperation, but Becca ignored it and lifted the ends of the blankets he held. Counting the blanket she had been sleeping under, they had two sheets, two fitted sheets, and two thicker blankets as well as a generous handful of paperclips sitting on top of the pile.

"That's it?" The fort Becca had in mind required more blankets.

"I am just one person," Steve reminded her.

"Don't you use logic on me." Becca reassessed the room. "Okay, we're building the economy version. It'll be cool, but practical." She went to move one of the chairs closer to the couch, but Steve dropped the stack of blankets on top of the seat.

"Where do you want it?"

Becca sighed, but pointed at a spot closer to the couch. She wasn't given the chance to lift anything else. It was both sweet and mildly frustrating to have Steve grabbing any of the furniture she made the slightest move towards. He did allow her to help hang up the blankets, which was a promising sign that, for all the nurse's suggestions, Steve wasn't going to treat her like a total invalid. Becca supposed she should have known. He had mentioned that he knew the frustrations of being treated that way.

The fort might not have been what Becca initially pictured, but she was satisfied with the result. Since the blankets were too heavy for anything else, they covered the floor between the couch and the floor lamp. A sheet draped from the lamp shade over the back of the couch. The second sheet stretched out behind, pinned to the first sheet along one side. It fell over two chairs, which gave the sheet a triangular shape. One of the fitted sheets hung straight down from the lamp serving as a flat wall. Pinned at the top, a chair weighed down the bottom while also ensuring the lamp stand remained balanced. The other fitted sheet hung between its double and the sheet over the couch. It served as the entrance flap since the fitted sheet couldn't cover the entire gap, but that worked fine. The exposed space would let some light in.

"Not bad," Becca stated. So it wasn't the best pillow fort ever constructed, but they had made the materials at hand work. Besides, she couldn't expect too much from a late night pillow fort.

"Not bad at all," Steve agreed, surveying their work with his hands on his hips.

"I think we need at least one pillow to make it an official pillow fort though."

"I'll get it."

While Steve grabbed a pillow, Becca crawled into the fort. Steve might like harder surfaces, but her body wasn't going to tolerate being on a floor for long. Becca hoisted herself up onto the couch and stretched across the cushions, keeping her head at an angle that put minimal strain on her neck.

The entrance sheet shifted and Steve ducked into the fort with a single pillow in his hands. He rested back on his knees and held the pillow out to her.

"Here."

"No thanks," Becca declined. She gestured at the blankets on the floor. "This is for you. Let's see if it's any better than the couch."

"All right."

Steve tossed down the pillow where there would be enough space for him to stretch out. He got down on his elbows and rolled onto his back.

Becca allowed him time to get settled and adjusted to the feel of the area before asking, "Well?"

"I…"

"Yes?"

Steve turned his head towards her. "It's a little too hard."

"Okay, Goldilocks," scoffed Becca, but softly since Steve looked rather apologetic.

"I've slept on worse."

"Uh huh."

"I have."

"I believe you. I'm just being difficult." Becca propped herself up on an arm. "You know how I am."

"Yeah, I know," Steve agreed with an expression of suffering.

"Hey!" Becca knew he was teasing, but she felt like she had to act a little offended. She grabbed the blazer-turned-pillow with the instinctive reaction to throw it, but when her hand closed around the shape of the medication boxes in the pocket, her grip loosened. "You're not supposed to agree with me."

"You're the one who said I'm the poster boy for truth," Steve pointed out with an imitation of the heroic pose Becca had done at the time of that assertion.

"Listen, you…" Becca cast about for an appropriate term. "…yuck." Steve snorted. "That's right. I know your Forties lingo."

"Do you?"

"I…" Becca actually doubted herself for a second until she noticed Steve's grin. "That was right!"

"I didn't say that it wasn't," Steve noted innocently.

Becca's eyes narrowed. "Careful. Don't forget, I know your weakness."

"And what's that?"

"Being ticklish."

Becca had time to appreciate his eyes widening as she darted out a hand. Even with the element of surprise on her side, Steve's reaction time was quicker. He deflected her arm from its course, but Becca didn't try again. Even a playful scuffle would require too much energy, and her sore muscles wouldn't thank her if she slid off the couch. She just wanted to remind Steve that she had a secret weapon. With that much accomplished, Becca had no need for a further attempt. Steve watched her, tensed in expectation, so she tucked her hands under the blazer.

"Don't worry. I've decided to take it easy on you," Becca informed him. Steve visibly relaxed. "Since the whole fort idea didn't work out, it's the least I can do."

"I don't know. It does make the living room more interesting."

"There is that. We'll call it a partial success then."

"How about we make it a complete success and get some sleep?"

"I don't think that makes the fort a complete success," Becca muttered, nose wrinkling. "But we probably should."

Her reluctance stemmed not from the idea of sleep itself, but the flashback-like nightmares Becca had no desire to face again. Steve should get some sleep though. Likely S.H.I.E.L.D. required Captain America to report for duty in the morning, so he was going to need more rest.

"You can have the couch," offered Becca, slipping off the cushions and onto her knees.

Steve sat up beside her. "All right. Maybe a bed will help you sleep."

"It's really not the sleeping space that's the problem."

"Then what is?"

Becca bit down on her tongue. Why did she never think before opening her mouth? Steve had dealt with enough of her problems without her whining about another one, and he'd certainly dealt with worse himself.

"Never mind. Maybe a bed will help." Becca flashed a brief smile and tugged the end of the blanket beneath her. "I'll pick these up. You start unpinning that sheet over the entrance."

"Are you sure –"

"I'm fine."

"Becca –"

"I said I'm fine!"

Oh god, she hadn't meant to snap. Becca clutched the blanket. She was usually better about controlling her temper. The Adderall must be wearing off faster than she had thought. She had to put distance between herself and Steve. The effects of Oxy lasted longer, and without Adderall to counter it she was going to become a person no one wanted to be around. If she had been smart, she would have stayed at the hospital.

"I'm sorry," Becca apologized, hurriedly gathering up the blanket. "I didn't – I'm sorry."

"That's all right. Becca." Steve touched her shoulder. "It's all right. It's late. You had a long day."

Becca nodded. She picked up her blazer and set it on top of the blanket. This would be her pile. After unpinning a sheet and a fitted sheet, she could go. Becca reached for the sheet tucked behind the couch.

"But it seems like you've been saying that you're fine a lot when really you're not fine."

Becca stopped her frantic dismembering of the fort and sighed. She stared down at the blazer. He had a point but… "Tell me that you haven't done the same thing." She waited, but of course Steve couldn't contradict her. "You were 'fine' when you freaked out at the zombie place, and you were 'fine' in the club. You've been through a war and a crash and a new century and losing everything you knew, so you're not 'fine.' But you don't unload any of that. You just… soldier on."

When Becca looked up at him, Steve met her gaze. The dim light had darkened the blue of his eyes, but Becca didn't think that was the only reason they appeared slightly sad. "I don't know how you do it. Honestly, I am in awe that you haven't gone totally off the rails." Becca ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "I'm not saying you have to talk about it. That's your decision. I offered once to listen, and I've got no business stepping beyond that. And I get not wanting to talk about things that are bothering you. I do, really. But if you're going to keep everything bottled up, then you can't expect me to unload all of my problems onto you and not feel like I'm just adding to whatever you're dealing with."

Well, she'd gotten that much off her chest. Becca straightened her shoulders. "So here's the deal. If I say I'm fine, that means I don't want to talk about it. If something comes up that's really bothering me and I need to get it off my chest, then I'll tell you. Fair?"

"Fair," Steve agreed with a nod.

"Good."

Since Steve hadn't moved towards the fitted sheet over the entrance, Becca decided to take that down first. She freed the paperclips by wiggling them slowly so as not to accidently collapse the entire fort.

"I have trouble sleeping, too," Steve admitted.

Becca pulled free the paperclip she'd been jostling and focused once more on Steve. He wore an expression of resolve, having apparently decided to open up a bit. She wished he hadn't decided to do so right this instant, but she couldn't in good conscience duck out on him now. Becca forced her hands into her lap and tried to look as attentive as possible.

"It's not so much because of the bed, although that's part of it. I have these dreams. Flashbacks, I guess. About the war. About… the people I left behind." Steve frowned. "Well, sometimes they're flashbacks, and other times they can change into something… harder. It doesn't always happen when I'm sleeping either. They can just come up."

What Steve was really confirming for Becca was a theory she'd had for awhile, that he was experiencing some form of PTSD. Considering everything Steve had been through, Becca wasn't surprised. She couldn't imagine how difficult it must be, so she maintained a supportive silence although instinct nudged her towards the fort's exit.

"Most of the time, I can manage them. I get out, go for a walk or to the gym, or sit in front of the TV, and after a while they go away. But sometimes… sometimes they get the better of me."

Steve sighed and looked down, which was how Becca knew he was finished. She hated that she felt a little relieved and hatred for that feeling enabled her to push past it. Opening up was a vulnerable position to take. Becca owed Steve her encouragement.

"That sounds rough." Becca scooted closer so she could place a hand over his. "If you think that it would make a difference, you can call me anytime whether you want to talk or you just need a distraction. Doesn't matter if you need to talk about the same thing over and over, I want to help. And if you never want to talk about this again, that's also fine. I… I can never understand what you're going through, but you're not on your own."

"I know," Steve murmured, a tiny smile quirking his mouth. He flipped his hand over, twining their fingers together. "I'm real lucky that I met you."

"Well, obviously," Becca joked, though she was touched. She grinned as Steve chuckled. "Now, let's get this fort down, and at least try to get some sleep, hmm?"

Becca darted forward, pressing a quick kiss to Steve's cheek. His grip tightened for a second, only to loosen as she pulled away. All Becca had to do was get the blankets she needed for the bed because Steve wasn't going to let her put the furniture back.

When those were gathered, Becca set the paperclips she had collected in a pile on the table. "Goodnight, for real this time."

"Goodnight," replied Steve as he grabbed one of the chairs. "Wait." He scooped up the pillow. "Take this."

"Keep it. I'm using the –" Steve tossed the pillow from almost clear across the room. It landed squarely on top on the bundle of blankets in Becca's arms. "– blazer as a pillow." Becca shook her head, impressed. "That was such a good shot that I'm not even gonna argue."

In the bedroom, Becca dumped the blankets onto the bed. She extracted the box of Oxycodone from a pocket of the blazer and ducked into the bathroom. She opened the box and took out two tablets. For her current dosage, she needed one and a half. However, Becca paused with one tablet poised to break between her fingers.

Drowsiness was one of the several side effects of Oxy that Becca had always seen as a downside. At its strongest, the medication had knocked her out for a deep, dreamless sleep. Maybe if she took a bit extra tonight, it would do the same. Becca rolled the tablet in her hand. Only half a tablet more, and only for one night. The doctor and nurse had said getting sleep was important for recovery. But if she took a higher dosage, she'd be extremely morose and irritable in the morning until the Adderall kicked in. She couldn't let Steve see her like that, not anymore than he'd already seen.

Becca went to snap the tablet in half, but stopped a second time. She could stay in bed, take the Adderall, and lie there until it balanced her out. Taking the tablets dry was unpleasant, but not impossible. Steve would never know. A little extra Adderall in counterpoint to the Oxy, and she'd be herself. That made sense, didn't it? She decided that it did, and swallowed two Oxy tablets with water.

* * *

Due to sheer exhaustion, Steve slept unusually well. He even fell asleep for an extra hour after surfacing at an ingrained 0500 wake up time. Feeling rested, Steve got up and folded the assorted blankets into a neat pile to be left on the couch for the time being. He went to check on Becca next, cracking open the bedroom door so as not to let in too much light. She was asleep, which he knew for certain because, unlike during her performance at the hospital, she snored quietly. The space between Becca's breaths sounded like they stretched on a bit, but he was no doctor. Steve listened long enough to ascertain that her breathing was regular. He shut the door and let her sleep.

Steve went about his morning routine, taking care to keep noises at a minimum. He picked up the TV and brought it into the kitchen. There he followed the news on low volume while he made eggs and toast. He set the full plate on the kitchen table beside a mug of coffee and glass of milk, eating while watching the reporter who stood outside the barricades still in place around Stark Tower.

Of course all the news coverage had to do with the invasion. Reporters swarmed around the tower, relaying yesterday's events and interviewing witnesses. Clips of press statements by government officials, including S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, were rerun. A shaky video someone had captured of him fighting off Chitauri in Grand Central Station played. Steve didn't care to listen to news about himself, so he cleared away the dishes while that story ran.

Once the kitchen was clean, Steve returned to the TV. Stark was speaking into a multitude of microphones held out to him, although his focus seemed to be set on a stunning female reporter. In the background, Steve noticed agents hovering, looking none too pleased. He flipped through a few channels, but the coverage remained the same. He turned off the TV and went to brush his teeth.

Unsure of what to do until Becca woke up, Steve paced around the apartment. Eventually, he made a call from the kitchen to Agent Finch, explaining in undertones that he would be coming back around to help as soon as he could. He stumbled over a justification for his current absence. He didn't want Agent Finch to send someone to the hospital when Becca was no longer there, but he was uncomfortable with telling the agent that Becca had spent the night in his apartment, even though his reasons were nothing to be embarrassed over. Luckily, Agent Finch cut him off and stated that his presence would be appreciated when he became available, but was not immediately expected.

With that matter settled, Steve made a final loop around the apartment and then sat down in front of his laptop. He briefly checked a global news source, but found that the news articles were similar no matter where he looked. He tapped a finger next to the touchpad, bored. The clock in the corner showed that it was already 0743, but Steve didn't assume that meant Becca would wake anytime soon. She had confessed to trouble sleeping, and that might have kept her up most of the night. Steve decided to use this time to do some catching up. Although he kept a physical list of things he'd missed out on, as Becca suggested, Steve had the list memorized.

Yet, as his thoughts revolved around to Becca, Steve found himself searching "coffee first date." Agents Romanoff and Barton's hesitance at the idea of a coffee date had been well placed. Nearly all of the sites Steve read suggested that coffee dates worked as a method of getting to know someone. He sat back in his chair, sighing and rubbing a hand across his face. Maybe Becca would want to do something more interesting? But Steve felt as though picking another "adventure" didn't distinguish the meeting as a date. He thought dinner still had to be an acceptable date, didn't it? Or seeing a film?

At 1002, Steve heard the bedroom door open, followed by the bathroom door clicking shut. He read to the end of the site, but returned to the search page. Whereas he had a mere inkling of where to go on a date before, Steve now had far too many ideas. Having a lot of information at his fingertips could be useful, but sorting through it all was overwhelming. Steve shut the laptop when Becca swung around the corner into the living room.

"Good morning!" Gone was any trace of sullenness. The Becca that snapped at him had disappeared, as Steve had predicted, with a bed and some much-needed sleep. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

"I found things to do," said Steve, purposely keeping his morning activities vague. "How are you feeling?"

"Great!" Becca spun in a wobbly pirouette to prove it. Steve grinned. He was glad to see that Becca had returned to her usual level of enthusiasm. He had been worried that the previous day's events might weigh her down. "Did the couch work out okay?"

"Yeah." Steve stood up. "How about some breakfast?"

"I'm really not that hungry, but you should definitely eat if you haven't already."

Steve frowned, concerned over Becca's lack of appetite. "You should eat something."

"Oh, well…" Becca set a hand on her hip. "I guess I'll have some toast, if I must. I don't usually do much for breakfast."

Relived for an explanation that didn't involve some kind of medical symptom, Steve led Becca into the kitchen. Becca plopped into a chair, scooped up the TV remote, and turned on the news while Steve retrieved bread. He put two slices in the toaster.

"There's coffee."

"I'm okay, thanks." Becca watched the screen with pursed lips, one heel bouncing restlessly on the floor. "This is on every channel, right?"

Steve leaned against the counter, eyeing the TV perched beside him. An unsteady video of Chitarui flying by a window looped on the screen.

"Pretty much."

"Mmm. No thank you." Becca shut off the TV. "Can I borrow your laptop?"

"Sure. I'll –"

"I got it." Becca leapt out of the chair and vanished into the living room, leaving Steve behind with his mouth half open.

Calling Becca back would be useless. Steve chastised himself for not closing the internet when he had the chance, not that he'd had a reason to think anyone would be using his laptop. He knew he was over thinking this date, but Becca didn't need to know that. However, it was too late. Becca reappeared in the entranceway, holding the open laptop.

"Changed our mind about getting coffee, did we?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in a teasing manner.

Steve shrugged. "It seemed like we should do something more… special than coffee."

"If that's what you want." Becca set the laptop on the kitchen table and perched on a chair beside it. "But you don't have to worry about it or anything. I'm not gonna, like, change my mind because I don't think coffee's good enough."

"I…" Steve busied himself getting out a plate and knife for the toast. He could talk to Becca about nearly everything, but not this. "After thinking about it, I wanted to be sure to take you somewhere nice 'cause you deserve that since, uh… since…" Steve set down a plate and pulled open the utensil drawer. "Well, you deserve it. Do you want butter with the toast?"

"Sure, and a glass of water if you wouldn't mind."

Steve got out the butter and filled a glass with water. He set everything down next to the laptop, sensing that Becca was watching him.

"I should go get dressed," Steve stated, needing to extract himself from the situation enough to cool his embarrassment. Becca didn't immediately respond, so Steve glanced at her and met a knowing look.

"Okay. I'll be here."

Steve left the kitchen for his bedroom. He changed and stripped down the bed, which Becca had left unmade. Both sets of bedding went into the washing machine along with his clothes from yesterday. He returned to the kitchen to find that Becca hadn't moved her chair. Her fingers darted across the laptop keys at the rapid pace of practiced efficiency, a pace matched by the continued restless tapping of her heel against the floor. She took a piece of toast from her mouth with one hand, still typing with the other.

"So I'm messaging Ally now. She's at home," Becca relayed, eyes glued to the screen.

"That's good." Becca could go home to her apartment, and Steve would know she'd have someone close by to keep an eye on her. He didn't trust her to follow the nurse's instructions to the letter.

"Also, she put two and two together and knows who you are. Don't worry though. I told her to keep it on the DL."

"The DL?"

"The down low. Basically, to keep it quiet." Becca finally stopped typing. "I figured she tells someone I know Captain America, then that person tells another person and so on until the paparazzi finds out, and well…" She grimaced. "They'll probably find out at some point anyway, but why deal with that kind of attention until we have to?"

"Yeah," said Steve since Becca seemed to be looking to him for approval. "I agree."

Steve had seen enough news headlines to know that when it came to celebrity in the twenty-first century, the press treated nothing as private. He wanted to protect Becca from the reporters, their cameras and gossip. Steve knew that an attempt to do so indefinitely would prove a futile exercise unless he shut her away or let her go. The former option was unfair to Becca and the latter he simply wasn't inclined towards. Furthermore, the decision was Becca's to make. The path Steve had chosen meant that a portion of his life stretched under a public spotlight. If Becca wanted no part in that, then she could walk away guilt-free as far as Steve was concerned. But he was prepared to put in the effort to ensure their relationship received as little publicity as possible beyond the fact that they were… whatever it was that they were.

"Glad we're on the same page then." Becca pressed a few keys and snapped the laptop shut. "Well, I would say you can send me on my way, but I get the feeling that's going to happen."

"I'll take you," Steve reaffirmed. He sat in a chair beside her. "After you finish eating."

Becca glared at the remaining toast. Steve had to clench his teeth to keep from laughing as she looked rather offended that the toast didn't wither away. Her reluctance clear, Becca picked up the third of toast, folded it, and swallowed it down.

"So what's on the agenda today?" Becca asked between sips of water. "Lifting collapsed buildings? Or is it super-secret classified business?"

"More cleanup probably," Steve chuckled. "So maybe there'll be some building lifting."

Becca nudged the entire piece of toast still sitting on her plate. "It's going to be weird having to be so vague about everything that happened."

"Ally already knows about me, so you can tell her the rest. And if you need to tell your parents or whoever, that's fine, too." Sure, it'd make things easier if Becca kept quiet, but Steve didn't want her to think he was pressuring her into lying.

"Oh, it's not about you exactly. At the hospital Agent Jones … what was it called?" Becca took a bite of the toast, chewing thoughtfully. "Oh yeah. He 'debriefed' me. Long story short, he very nicely and professionally told me to keep my mouth shut."

The one bit of information that Steve could see S.H.I.E.L.D. needing to keep quiet was the Tesseract, at least until Thor removed it from Earth. Becca knew only what bare details he had told her about the cube, but there would be people out there who would desire to get their hands on such a powerful source through any lead. Yet, that was no reason for Becca to hide everything else, which reminded him. Steve was reluctant to bring up the Agent Greaves, but he had to get the truth from Becca.

"Right. Uh, I have to ask you a question about Agent Greaves," said Steve. Becca's face twisted like the toast in her mouth had suddenly turned rancid, but she nodded. "How did you meet her?"

Becca swallowed the toast and downed a mouthful of water before replying, "She jumped on top of me; knocked me to the ground so I didn't get hit while I was running towards the subway. Why? Oh god." Color drained from Becca's cheeks. "Was she a friend? I didn't think – You seemed – I just assumed you had –"

"She wasn't a friend," Steve assured, his suspicion confirmed. While Steve was grateful that Agent Greaves had been there to protect Becca, he was going to have a talk with Nick about the surveillance Becca was under.

"O-oh. Okay." Becca started tearing the remainder of the toast into bits. "I asked Agent Jones if she had any family. He said he didn't know. I asked if he would find out, but I don't think he will. Do you think you could?"

The request surprised Steve, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks." Becca crushed a bit of toast between her fingers. "I feel like I should send flowers or a card or some stupid thing that people send even though it doesn't really help."

"It might. When you love someone, it can help to know that they meant something to another person, too. You want to know their death counted for something."

Because when someone's death felt like it didn't count, like it could have been avoided, Steve found that hurt a lot worse. That was why Ma's death hurt as he watched her succumb to disease. That's why Bucky's death had hurt as he slipped just out of Steve's reach when seconds could have made a difference. Those were the kind of deaths that haunted.

Becca reached for his hand, but seemed to think better of her butter-coated fingers. "Well, Agent Greaves certainly did count." She rubbed her fingers clean on a napkin. "All right, no more wallowing. We should get going."

"Hold on." Steve reached out and exerted a light pressure on Becca's shoulder when she tried to stand. "Destroying your toast doesn't get you out of eating it."

"Ugh. Fine, _Dad_."

"You're supposed to talk respectfully to your elders, you know."

"Not counting your nap, we're basically the same age." Becca swatted at his hand. "So hush yourself."

Steve hushed because Becca did make several stacks out of the bits of toast, chewing each deliberately until her plate was empty. After clearing the dishes, they left the apartment and rode the subway up to the neighborhood Becca lived in. Either due to the lack of uniform or because the news hadn't sunk in yet, Steve thankfully received no more recognition than a few double-takes and a couple lingering gazes.

Mostly Steve was too distracted to even notice since Becca chattered on about using technology from the alien vehicles to make flying subway cars. Steve wasn't able to contribute much other than pointing out some flaws in her reimaged subway system, but Becca's animated enthusiasm for the subject left him smiling.

"Say what you want, I think it'd be epic." Becca pressed the buzzer outside of her apartment building, followed by the intercom button. "Little pig, little pig, let me come in."

"Took you long enough," Ally's voice crackled through the speaker outside the apartment building.

The lock on the front door hummed. Becca pulled the door open, and Steve caught the edge.

"I'll walk you up," offered Steve.

"M'kay. I'm sure Ally would like to say hi anyway."

Steve hoped so because he wanted Ally within hearing distance when he and Becca said their goodbyes. He planned on reminding Becca that she should be resting during the week in front of her roommate to increase the chances that she actually would. From what he'd seen of Ally, she seemed the type of person to pick up the information and make sure Becca took it slow.

They ascended the two flights of stairs, and Becca knocked on her apartment door. The door flew open, and Ally swooped Becca into a hug. Ally appeared to have had a long night. There were dark shadows under her eyes, strands of her pin-straight hair had fluffed out, and she was still in her pajamas. At least, Steve assumed that's what the overly large t-shirt was meant to be. He consciously kept his gaze at eye level as soon as he observed that she wasn't wearing pants.

Ally's eyes widened when she noticed him standing there, but she smiled. "I knew I liked you, Adventure Man." Steve returned her smile.

"Getting squished here," Becca wheezed.

"Sorry." Ally stepped back. She beckoned Steve inside. "I think we owe you a drink at least, but it's a little early."

Steve remained in the hallway. "Thanks, but I can't stay."

"Rain check then."

"Sure."

Becca had picked up a pad of paper and pen from a table next to the door, which she held out to him. "Write down your number so I can call you once I get a new phone."

"What happened to your phone?" Ally asked while Steve wrote down his number.

"Long story."

"Which you are obviously going to tell me."

"Obviously."

Steve handed Becca the paper and pen back. This was his chance before Ally could decide to leave them alone. "You're going to rest up this week, right?"

"Yes," assured Becca, frowning at him.

"And cut back on your time in front of the computer and TV?"

"Yes."

"And see a doctor if you –"

"Yes, yes. Okay." Becca grabbed the door knob and stepped into her apartment, swinging the door shut enough to block out Ally. "You can be really stubborn."

"And you can be real difficult."

Becca narrowed her eyes, but her frown softened. "Don't you have buildings to lift?"

"One or two."

Becca quickly scanned the empty hallway. Steve had just enough time to guess that she was checking to make sure no one had seen him before Becca proved him wrong. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down while rocking up onto her tiptoes.

Their lips crashed together. While his eyes shut instinctually, Steve was stunned into immobility until Becca's hold on him loosened and she eased the kiss into a gentler one. His hands settled on her waist, resting above the soft curves of her hips. Her lips were just as soft against his, marred only by the cut where her upper lip had been torn. The kiss didn't last long, but brevity didn't diminish the gratification of her lips against his.

"Then you better get going, Captain," Becca murmured.

"Bye!" Ally called as the door swung shut. Muffled by the wood, Steve heard her say, "So either that was a super dramatic pause or a kiss." The back of Steve's neck itched in embarrassment. Becca didn't respond verbally, but the answer must have been clear because as Steve began to walk away Ally shouted, "About fucking time!"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Because it really was about time. Of course not all of the decisions that Becca is making are as good... **

**Also, over 100 followers? Y'all are the best. Thank you so much for the follows, favourites, and reviews. I'm really enjoying writing this, and it's great to know so many of you are enjoying reading it, too! **


	14. Facing Facts, Or Not

"One set to go," called Russell, the onsite foreman. "You up for it?"

Steve nodded. He grabbed the last bundle of steel cables and hefted them up. The steel creaked as he pulled the cables taut across a gap that used to be the intact wall of an office building's parking garage. Welders went to work on the cables, fusing them into place along steel foundations. Steve held the bundle steady. The palms of his hands burned and sweat trickled down the side of his face, but he didn't let go until the last welder backed away.

"All right, good work. George, let's get the mixer in here. I want these cables in cement." While George hastened off, Russell held out a hand to Steve. "That's all we can use you on. Appreciate the help."

"Sure." Steve shook Russell's hand. "Good luck on the rest."

"It's been an honor, Captain."

It had been nearly two full days since the invasion and full repairs were underway. Every construction crew and all their vehicles seemed to have been brought into the area surrounding Stark Tower. Volunteer groups rallied to assist in the cleanup. Despite overwhelming support, there was still a hell of a lot to get done. Steve kept busy, reporting to Agent Finch in the morning and then moving from task to task until he had to break for a meal or sleep.

During lunch today, Becca had finally texted him on her new phone. A quick call had left Steve relatively reassured that Becca was doing fine, although her tone sounded slightly evasive when stating that she had been sleeping better. Steve hadn't pushed the matter. He had to trust Becca to open up to him when she needed to, although he felt unusually impatient when it came to her health. Maybe Becca had sensed that because she changed subjects over to the press conference.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was holding an official press conference in the evening and Steve's reemergence was to be one of the main topics. A statement hadn't been enough, Steve had been told by Agent Finch. The people wanted to see him "live and in person." Steve had anticipated that this conference would occur at some point, and he wasn't much worried. The cameras had gotten fancier, but Steve had seen enough press conferences on the news to know they hadn't changed. He might be used to standing in front of a younger audience, but he had dealt with the older members of the press in his day, too.

Steve checked his phone outside the parking garage and realized that he should head back to the apartment soon for a shower. Since Steve thought that any task he got involved in would probably take more than half an hour, he decided to take the subway home now to get cleaned up. He changed directions, walking towards the nearest open subway station when a familiar face rounded the corner.

"I was gonna make sure you were cleaned up in time, but it looks like you're heading the right way," Nick observed, jerking a thumb towards the subway station.

"Yeah." Steve stopped in front of Nick. "You coming to the conference, too?"

"Mhmm."

"I can tell. You're dressed for it." Steve nodded at Nick's outfit, the same black ensemble he always wore. Stark had made a passing remark suggesting that Nick must have adopted the Goth style a few decades back and never really grown out of it. Steve had yet check on how this particular style could possibly have developed from the artistic period.

Nick smiled. "A lot of people elsewhere have been wanting explanations since the invasion, but I figured I needed to be here. You feeling ready?"

"Last time I got up in front of the press they wanted to hear about how it felt to punch Hitler." Steve shrugged. "This time it will be punching aliens, right? How different can it be?"

"We'll see."

After the conference Steve expected Nick might disappear, so this was his chance to bring up what had been troubling him since their last phone call.

"Nick, I know I already asked you for a favor, but I need another one."

"And what's that?"

"The surveillance that Becca's under, I'd like it to stop."

The expression in Nick's eyes slipped away into a blank mask. "Surveillance?"

"Agent Greaves' appearance wasn't a coincidence."

Steve had anticipated that Nick would deny that he'd put Becca under any kind of surveillance, but he didn't deny a thing. Instead, Nick indicated a nearby alleyway where they could talk.

In the privacy of the alley, Nick stated, "If it weren't for Agent Greaves, Miss Stroud would no longer be with us."

"I appreciate that, but I'd still like you to call off whatever tail you have on her."

"I don't think you understand."

"There's nothing to understand. What Becca does on her own time is her business."

"I'm just trying to look out for you, Cap," Nick clarified, the sharp edges of his tone softening minutely.

"But people know that I'm Captain America. It's not a secret anymore," Steve pointed out, as he presumed that was the reason for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s interest in Becca in the first place.

Nick shook his head. "This isn't about being Captain America. I'm looking out for _you_."

"I can look out for myself," Steve relayed, a bit irked that Nick thought he couldn't.

"If you read Becca's file, you might feel differently."

"I doubt it."

Nick gave Steve a hard look. "The public knows who you are now, and they're going to find out about Miss Stroud," he explained with forced patience. "It's a matter of time. They might play nice at first, but they'll turn. And when they do, there will be a target on her back. Finding out the good things? That's not how headlines are made. They'll want the flaws, the cracks, and believe me, there are cracks."

"Of course there are." Steve liked Becca a whole lot, but that didn't mean he put her up on some pedestal. Furthermore, he didn't care what any headlines would say about her, and Becca shouldn't either. That was if they were all as cutthroat as Nick suggested. "But people may surprise you. They're not all out for blood."

"I know you try to see the good in people," Nick sighed, "but the world isn't as good as you want it to be. If you really wanted to do the right thing for yourself and Miss Stroud, you'd walk away."

Steve didn't believe that, couldn't believe it. Whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. had dug up on Becca, Steve didn't think for a moment that it would be something so terrible that he'd regret knowing her. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. had found an incident from her past, but no one's past was perfect. If the press found about whatever it was and tried to use that to drag his image through the mud, well, Steve didn't much care. Steve knew Becca for who she was, and there wasn't a chance in hell he was walking away from her.

"I'm not gonna do that."

"Cap, she's getting ille –"

"I don't want to know," Steve snapped, his annoyance mounting. Nick had no right to dig into Becca's life like this. "Just call off the surveillance."

"You're not –"

But Steve had heard enough.

"Leave my girl alone or we're going to have problem." As an afterthought, Steve added, "Sir."

Nick stared at him, and Steve caught the barest trace of surprise flick through Nick's eyes before his expression hardened.

"I've been in enough fights to know when I'm on the losing end. I'd hoped you were smarter than this, but you want to bury your head in the sand, that's fine. I won't try to dig you out anymore."

"So no more surveillance?"

"None."

Mollified by the agreement, Steve replied, "Thank you."

"Mhmm." Nick turned towards the street, his coat swirling out behind him. He stopped at the mouth of the alley. "Things are gonna get ugly sooner or later."

"They might not," Steve countered. Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. had dug something up on Becca, Steve had the impression that, as a government agency, their technology and resources where deeper than the average press circuit.

"I hope you're right, Cap." Nick glanced back at him. "But I doubt it."

* * *

After a few days of spending very little time on her laptop, Becca leapt on the chance. Ally had gone out food shopping with Danny and wouldn't be back for an hour at least. Disasters always left a wake of mass chaos in grocery stores, which meant free time for Becca. She would have limited her internet time anyway, since the nurse had been fairly insistent that doing so helped prevent any negative symptoms from developing due to her concussion. However, Ally had been especially vigilant since Steve had mentioned it along with more of the nurse's suggestions in front of her. "Captain's orders" seemed to be Ally's new favorite phrase, much to Danny's confusion and Becca's annoyance.

Although Becca was left to vegetate without the distraction of technology, she had no time to be bored. Ally had the rest of the week off from work and Danny had come over, so together they talked and played games. Once Becca had bought a new phone, she set to work contacting her family and friends. While Becca had been relieved to find out that she hadn't lost anyone close to her, she knew people who had, and so offered condolences and support. Her parents wanted to visit, but Becca had convinced them to wait until travel in and out of the city was less of a horror show.

Late at night, though, there were no distractions. Whether it was the quiet or the dark, Becca had lain in bed on the first night home feeling her skin crawl and her breath shorten. Nightmares invaded her sleep even in the comfort of her own bed. After splashing some cold water on her face following a particularly vivid flashback, Becca had been so startled by a distorted shadow figure reflected in the bathroom mirror that she had a panic attack.

The figure had been Ally come to check on her. Ally had almost called an ambulance, but Becca got ahold of herself in time to talk her roommate out of it. Becca decided that the best thing to do was follow the course she'd taken on the night at Steve's apartment. She took a half tablet more of Oxy before bed and a half tablet more of Adderall when she woke up. After all, there had been no adverse effects apart from being a little hyper in the morning, and she would only be taking the extra medication for a week or so. Surely the nightmares would go away with a bit of time.

The extra Adderall had already worn off from the morning. Becca went into her room, took her meds along with the antibiotics that Dr. Banner had suggested, and got out her laptop. Since she'd been laying stationary for so long, Becca wanted to move around. She considered looking up some self defense videos, but thought those would involve too much physical activity. Instead, she found an easy, half-hour yoga video on Youtube and pulled her yoga matt out of the closet. Becca hadn't done yoga since before the accident, but she thought it would be okay as long as she avoided any positions that would put stress on the base of her neck. Once the floor of her room was relatively clean, Becca unrolled the matt and followed the routine.

Almost twenty minutes into the session, Becca thought she heard a knock on the front door. She paused the video and listened. Yup, definitely a knock. Becca went to see who was at the door, expecting either a neighbor or the super since the buzzer hadn't gone off. She peered out through the peephole. While Becca recognized the person on the other side, it was because she had seen him on TV at last night's S.H.I.E.L.D. press conference as well as in the news she'd watched at the hospital. Becca wasn't particularly fazed at his ability to find out where she lived, considering his position and all those other agents knowing her name, but she was taken aback that he was here at all. She opened the door for him.

"Hi. You're, uh, Director Fury, right?" Becca remembered the name because it had gone so well with his eye patch and Matrix-like jacket. She held out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Fury shook her hand once. "Miss Stroud."

"Would you like to come in?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all."

Becca stepped out of the way to allow him inside, wondering why he had come. Was it to do with Agent Greaves? Or what she had seen at Stark Tower? Becca had promised Agent Jones to keep the details under wraps, but maybe he hadn't believed her. In any case, having the director of a secret intelligence agency in her living room felt strange, but she'd experienced a few strange things over the past weeks.

"You're welcome to sit if you'd like." Becca gestured towards the couch, but Fury sat on the armchair beside it. "Can I get you a drink or anything?"

"No thanks."

Becca took a seat on the couch, trying to read in Fury's expression what he wanted to say to her. Unsurprisingly, he was a hard man to read.

"I heard you had a level three concussion," Nick stated, his eyes flicking briefly to the yellowing bruise on her forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. No complications and my hands are healing up, too." Becca held up her hands, which had large adhesive bandages over the palms. "I'm just waiting on blood results, but I'm not really worried."

"Those results were negative for infection. You got lucky."

"Oh… Well, that's good." Had S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled more strings to get her blood analyzed so quickly or did they just know? Either way, Becca was uncomfortable to be getting the results in this manner. Still, she managed a neutral tone when she said, "Thanks. Uh, not to be rude, but why are you here exactly? I can't imagine it's to give me those results."

Fury examined her in silence for a minute, which gave Becca the feeling of being back in elementary school and sitting in front of the principal. As she had then, Becca had no idea what she'd done wrong, but got the impression that she was in trouble.

At last, Fury stated, "I'm here because I'm concerned for Captain Rogers."

"Is something wrong with him?" Becca asked anxiously.

"No. The reason I'm concerned is because of you."

"Me?" Becca frowned. "I don't understand."

"It's come to my attention that Captain Rogers has become…" Fury tipped his head as though searching for the right word "…attached to you. It's clear that if something were to happen to you, he'd be pretty broken up about it. I think it's safe to say that's a situation neither of us want."

"Right." Was he talking about the Chitauri attack in the sewers? Becca was confused as to where the conversation was going.

"So if there were a way of preventing such a situation, you agree that it would be the best course of action to pursue it?"

"Yes."

"Then, the way I see it, you've got two choices Miss Stroud." Fury leaned forward in the chair. "Either you stop the drug habit or you walk out of Captain Roger's life."

Becca stared at him incredulously. "I don't have a drug habit."

"So you're not taking prescription medication?"

"Well, yes," Becca admitted, deciding that Steve must have mentioned it. "I have damaged nerves, so I need medication for them."

"And you've never taken more than you needed?"

Immediately, Becca thought of the extra half tablet that she had taken the previous night. All right, maybe she hadn't needed the additional Oxy for pain, but she was supposed to be getting plenty of sleep and the medication helped with that.

"No."

"No?" Fury repeated, eyebrows rising.

"Well, I have to keep upping my doses through guesswork, so maybe once or twice. I have a high tolerance for painkillers."

"And what about the Adderall?"

Becca's stomach dropped. Shit. "What Adderall?"

"The Adderall you're getting illegally from a drug dealer named Derek Mahoney."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Becca lied automatically, mind racing. How had they found out? She hadn't been to see Derek in almost two weeks. Had he been arrested? Damn it. She'd met him through an acquaintance who assured her that Derek was careful and didn't sell any real drugs.

"Maybe this will jog your memory."

Fury pulled a file out of his coat and held it out to her. The folder bore a lot of the same markings as the one Steve had shared with her, except this one had her name on the front. Becca took the file with an unsteady hand and opened it. The first item in the folder was a picture of her standing in Riverside Park. Derek appeared in the next photo and in the one after they embraced, his hand partially concealed in her pocket. The corner of a clear bag peeked out of that hand. Becca didn't want to look at the rest of them.

"Do I need a lawyer?"

"This isn't an interrogation," Fury assured her, although that's what Becca felt this had turned into. "I'm not trying to have you arrested. I'm trying to make a point."

"What point?"

"That you have a drug habit."

"But I don't. These photos make everything look so… shady," Becca complained, shutting the file and thrusting it back towards him. Fury tucked the file into his coat without taking his eye off of her. "It's not like I'm buying heroin to get high. I'm taking Adderall because, if I don't, the Oxy makes it very difficult for me to function normally. When I don't have to take Oxy anymore, I can stop getting Adderall."

"And why not tell your doctor?"

"Because my doctor wanted to take me off Oxy if I was experiencing negative side effects, but I need it for the pain. Nothing else will work as well." Becca threw up her hands beseechingly. "I had no choice."

"So, what you're saying," recounted Nick with frustrating patience, "is that you're not going to stop taking Oxy when your doctor tells you to do so?"

"Yes – no." Becca scowled, her frustration rising. Fury was twisting her words. Becca knew that he couldn't condone getting illegal medication as the head of a government agency. Yet, she had to make him see how much she needed her medication and prove that she was in control. "I'll stop taking medication when the pain stops."

Fury shook his head, disbelieving. "Do you have any idea how addictive these medications are?"

"I'm not a drug addict."

"If you aren't yet, you're on the right path to becoming one."

"No, I'm not." Becca counted on her fingers. "One, drug addicts don't need their drugs like I need my medication. Two, I can stop anytime I want because I'm _not addicted_. I'm just using the medications to make myself normal again."

Fury leaned back in the chair. "You think I'd be the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. if I couldn't hear a lie?"

"Oh my god," Becca snapped. Clearly this was going nowhere. "If you're not here to arrest me, then why are you even doing this?"

"Because I care about what happens to Captain Rogers," replied Fury, his words clipped and hard. "Because I know that when you get in over your head, he's going to blame himself for not seeing the signs. Because when the public finds out that Captain America was involved with someone getting illegal drugs, they're going to tear down his good image."

There were so many things wrong with the assumptions that Fury was making, but Becca knew exactly where to begin. "This has nothing to do with Steve."

"It does, whether he knows it or not."

"No, it really doesn't." Becca folded her arms. "And if you care, you won't tell him because that would be involving him and then that'd be on _you_, not me. He's already got enough shit to deal with without you shoving this in his face."

"You think I don't know that?" Nick scoffed.

Becca shrugged. "Apparently not, because you're trying to blow this whole thing way out of proportion."

"No." Nick jabbed a finger at her. "I'm here trying to prevent this from blowing up."

"Well, it won't." Becca made herself take a deep breath. She had to assure Fury that everything would be okay so that no word of this got back to Steve. "Look, I know that these medications are addictive. I've heard it from my doctor, and I did my research before getting Adderall. I am only taking them because I need them. If and when the pain stops, the meds stop. That's a promise."

Fury eyed her searchingly. "And if you can't stop?"

Becca was certain she could, but to placate him she said, "Then I'll get help."

Folding his hands in thoughtful silence, Fury considered her, and Becca steadily held his gaze. She had meant everything she'd said. She wouldn't let her medication use get out of hand. What she took was enough to keep her running functionally. Becca wished that she didn't need the meds, but they were a necessary solution to a bad situation. Hopefully she'd be healed up in a number of months, and then she wouldn't need to be fixed anymore.

"I can see I'm wasting my time. If you two don't want to face the facts, there's nothing I can do." Fury got to his feet.

"Two?" Becca echoed. "You already told him?"

"No. He didn't want to hear anything I had to say." Becca sighed in relief, and Fury gave her a sharp look. "You should tell him the truth. He's put a lot of blind trust in you, and you're not doing much to deserve it."

His words sent a spike of guilt into Becca's stomach. No, she was doing the right thing by not telling Steve. She didn't want to worry him needlessly when she had everything under control. Becca got up from the couch.

"Sometimes you have to hide things to protect people. I'd think as the head of an intelligence agency you'd know that."

Fury's mouth twisted into a grim smile. "But who are you protecting, Miss Stroud? Captain Rogers or yourself?" He leaned towards her slightly. "You think about that." Those were Fury's final words before he showed himself out.

Becca did think about it, but ultimately came to the decision that it didn't matter because she wasn't addicted to her medication. To prove that to herself, she decided to skip her meds for the next twenty-four hours. From her time in the sewers, Becca knew it would be a deeply unpleasant experience, but she also knew what to expect now. She could do it.

The headache came first, a dull throbbing beating inside of her skull. Then a familiar pain set in the base of her neck, manageable at first. By the time Ally and Danny returned, Becca had started to feel cold. She excused herself under the pretense of needing a nap and retreated to her bedroom where she huddled under her blankets and stared at the clock. Becca began to feel annoyed with herself. Why was she even doing this? What did she really have to prove? What right did this man, who knew nothing beyond what his agents could sniff out, have to come in and say she was a drug addict? Depression followed close on the heels of irritability. Why did it even matter? Fury was right, she didn't deserve Steve. She was broken, pathetic.

Hours later, pain really sunk its claws into Becca's neck, bringing fear with it. Becca managed to drag herself out of bed to her trashcan before she vomited. Clutching the trashcan in shaking fists, she looked over to the clock. Wasn't five hours enough? She needed her medication, _needed_ it. All she could think of was getting to the boxes in her bedside table, the relief taking medication would bring. But this wasn't like a drug craving, no. All Becca wanted was a release from the pain like any normal person. She was being an idiot. She should never have let Director Fury get to her.

Becca staggered over to the bedside table and took her meds. Although it would take time for them to kick in, she felt a measure of relief knowing that soon everything would clear up. Ally knocked on her door and poked her head in, but Becca just told her that she'd fallen asleep and forgotten to take her medication. It had taken the doctors a couple of days to realize that Becca had developed a tolerance for Oxycodone, but that had been enough time for Ally to find out what Becca was like without enough painkillers. So Ally didn't question Becca now.

Even though Becca had done enough that she believed becoming an addict wasn't an issue, she couldn't forget about Fury's visit. He had said that Steve was putting a lot of trust in her, and the more Becca thought about it, the more she realized just how deep that trust went. Steve had told her that he was Captain America even though she could have blabbed to everyone she knew. He still trusted her not to go running off her mouth about knowing him. He'd opened up a bit about some of the trauma he was experiencing. That took trust, too. Steve knew that she had to take something in addition to Oxy, maybe… maybe she _should _tell him. But it had to be the right time.

Over the next couple of days, Becca didn't find that time. She was busy. Some friends came over to visit, and Ally seemed to have made it her mission to keep Becca otherwise occupied. She texted Steve of course, but somehow it felt wrong to bring up her meds via texting. If she decided to bring them up at all.

There were two things Becca knew for certain that she was going to keep from him. One, Fury's visit because she didn't want Steve talking to Fury and getting his head filled up with ideas about her being an addict. Two, that she was obtaining Adderall illegally. On the off chance anything did go wrong, she couldn't involve Steve by giving him that knowledge. She had already involved him enough by taking Adderall from a store that he'd broken them into.

However, telling Steve that she was taking Adderall was another matter all together, a dilemma that Becca had allowed herself to ignore until aliens and Director Fury threw it into a glaring spotlight. But she had to face the choice now because the truth was that Fury's question did matter. Was she protecting Steve or herself?

That question floated in an out of her conscious mind, but currently hid under a layer of boredom. The evening that Ally had to go to a funeral for her friend's mother was the first time Becca was bored all week. Ally left mid afternoon to help set everything up and was unlikely to be back until late. At first Becca had found stuff to do. She cleaned up her room, which had turned into a disaster area, did an hour of yoga, and watched TV. The hospital called to confirm her blood work was clean. The call reminded Becca that she had meant to look into self defense classes. She did some poking around, but they all seemed filled up. She also checked on going to a firing range, but she needed a gun permit first. After filling out the application, she looked into volunteer opportunities to assist in the post-invasion cleanup. With the Chitauri bodies gone, Becca thought she could face going back into that area of Manhattan. Eventually though, she ran out of things to do and didn't much feel like watching anything in particular on TV.

Becca stared passively at the clock on the DVD player, counting down the seconds until 7:44 turned into 7:45 for no other reason than reaching a quarter hour had become a sad benchmark in moments that she was looking forward to. Her phone had been drearily silent for the past hour. The last person who texted her was Steve, and she'd probably put him off by jokingly stating that she was dying of boredom because he kept reminding her to take things easy.

When the buzzer went off, Becca jumped. She hadn't been expecting anyone. Heaving out a breath, Becca pushed herself off of the couch and shuffled over to the intercom.

"Hello?"

The intercom crackled, and then a voice came through. "I figured after all the trouble I went through getting you out of the sewers, I couldn't let you die of boredom."

Becca grinned. "My hero. Come on up."

After pressing the button to unlock the front door, Becca raced into the bathroom to brush her teeth and slap on some eyeliner and mascara. There wasn't time to change clothes, but considering that Steve had seen her in a sewage-coated suit, she didn't think he would bat an eye at sweatpants.

"Be right there!" Becca yelled in response to Steve's knock on the front door, pulling a brush through her hair.

Becca tossed all of her things into the medicine cabinet and sprinted out of the bathroom. She skidded to a brief halt in front of her bedroom and glanced at her bedside table. No, she'd taken her meds a short while ago. No more necessary until bedtime. Becca continued on her sprint and tossed the front door open.

"Hi. Sorry." Becca stood aside so that Steve could come in and swung the door shut behind him. "I had to clean up quick and I chose myself over the coffee table, so don't mind the mess."

"That's all right." Steve looked her over in an assessing manner while removing his jacket. If he had anything to say, Becca didn't find out because she noticed the white styrofoam cups he'd placed on the table under the coat rack.

"Please tell me those are what I think they are."

Steve smiled and held out one of the cups to her. "I hope chamomile peach is okay."

"Sounds perfect. Thank you." Becca took the cup and sipped the ice cream shake. God, no place made them better than Black Ice. "Mmm and tastes perfect." She strode over to the couch and plopped down on the center cushion. "What'd you get?"

Steve sat on the cushion beside her and answered, "Chocolate."

"_What?!_" Becca gasped. "They have all those crazy flavors and you get _chocolate_? What – what are you doing with your life?"

"I think it tastes good."

Becca frowned suspiciously as she noticed Steve's eyes sparking with unvoiced laughter. She thought back to the time they went to Black Ice. Hadn't she told him then that he should get something more adventurous after he'd suggested getting chocolate?

"Do you get chocolate just to make me freak out?"

"No," Steve assured her, clearly fighting off a grin.

"Unbelievable." Becca gulped down another mouthful of shake and sighed. "But this is so delicious I can't even be mad." She pulled her legs up and crossed them, sipping more of the shake. "So how's it being Captain America again?"

"All right." Steve shrugged. "A lot of people want to shake hands."

Becca patted his arm. "You just had to go and save the world again didn't you?"

"Well, I helped. It's a hobby."

"Hmmm." Becca propped an arm on the back of the couch and leaned against it. "I don't know if the world's going to be in peril enough to really make a hobby out of saving it. At least, I hope it's not. You might have to either take that down a scale or pick up a new hobby."

Steve let out a breath-like laugh. "What, like fishing?"

"Yeah, or bingo or shooing rambunctious hooligans off of people's lawns. You know." Becca made an exaggeratedly grim face. "Old man hobbies."

"You're real funny, Becca."

"It's a gift." Becca swallowed more peachy goodness, humming contentedly at the rush of flavor. "So how's the building you were working on earlier?"

"I think it's going well. They need more materials though, so they put a halt on the construction crew. I'll check in tomorrow." Steve set his cup on the coffee table. "What have you been doing today?"

"Resting," Becca answered pointedly, knowing full well that Steve would get on her case otherwise. "And…" The visit from Fury came to mind, despite having taken place earlier in the week, but she quashed the thought. The moment still didn't feel right. "Oh, I applied for a gun permit. I wanted to learn how to use one 'cause, well, you know, it seemed like a good idea."

Steve's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he offered, "Do you want me to show you how to shoot?"

"Um…" Becca supposed that, unlike with her lack of self defense skills, not knowing anything about guns would prove less embarrassing. "That'd be great. I'll let you know when my permit comes through."

"All right."

"Cool." Becca turned the cup in her hands, the tips of her fingers turning pink against the cold surface. "Apart from that and a bit of cleaning, I didn't do much else really. I thought it was going to be great having some me time, but…" Becca contemplated the rim of her cup. "It's like the universe has gotten so much bigger than we ever thought, but I'm lounging around in sweats. I don't know. I just feel like I should be doing something." She glanced up at Steve. "I mean, I did look into volunteering with the cleanup."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking of going tomorrow." Steve looked like he was about to remind her that the nurse had told her to take a whole week off, so Becca smiled faintly and said, "Don't have a conniption. They need people to sweep and sort through rubble. I'll leave the heavy lifting to our resident patriotic muscle man." She curled her arm as though she actually had muscle to show off.

The corner of Steve's mouth quirked up. "I get the feeling talking you out of this would be useless, so I won't."

"Wow, it's like you know me or something."

"Or something."

It was a joke. Becca knew he meant it as a joke, but with Fury's visit still hovering over her, those two words sent a pang of guilt through her chest. If she had been waiting for a transition into talking about her Adderall usage, this was a chance to get the topic out of the way. She could nonchalantly bring it up like she'd practiced in her head.

"_By the way, I've been meaning to tell you – You know how I'm taking two kinds of medication? The other one is called Adderall, and it keeps the Oxy from making me depressed. I'm usually good about taking my meds, but if I ever snap at you, it's the Adderall wearing off. It's not a big deal, but I wanted you to know." _

Say it. Becca stared into Steve's eyes, willing the words to form in her mouth even as her throat constricted. Go on. Say it. His expression shifted, both puzzled and concerned. She had been silent a beat too long or he was reading the inner struggle on her face. With every second she let slide by, the words that followed would carry more weight.

"Are you all right?" Steve raised a hand, but left it hovering as though unsure of whether he should touch her or not.

Becca's lips parted, inhaling a breath that gave her another split second to think. Then, she made up her mind.

"Yeah."

There was never much of a chance that she was really going to tell him. It was nothing personal. Becca didn't plan on telling anyone. Part of that had always been because she didn't want anyone treating her differently, but she didn't think Steve would. No, the reason she couldn't tell him was that she was ashamed. Becca was ashamed that the nerve pain crippled her body, and she was ashamed that the Oxy crippled her mind. But what shamed her most was that she needed Adderall to make her smile, that the bubbly, perky Becca that Steve knew was a better imitation of the real thing.

"I'm fine." Tension ran along Steve's jaw line. Becca could tell he was keeping himself from asking anything further, so she quickly added, "I think I ingested too much frozen goodness too fast. Total brain freeze overload." She set the cup down on the table far enough away from Steve's that she wouldn't reach out for his by accident.

"Right," said Steve, his tone disbelieving. "Oh." He lifted himself an inch off the couch, digging into one of his pants' pockets. "Before I forget."

"Can that even happen?" Becca asked, eager to pick up a new subject.

"I can if I'm distracted."

"Better hurry it up then. I know I'm _very _distracting." Becca fluttered her eyelashes.

Steve smiled and held out a piece of paper. "Here." Becca unfolded the paper on which was printed the name "Elizabeth Madison" with an address in Maine and phone number listed beneath it. "You wanted to get in touch with someone in Agent Greaves' family. That's her sister."

Heaviness settling in her stomach, Becca swept over the name with her thumb. "Did you happen to get Agent Greaves' first name at all? I'd feel weird calling her 'Agent.'"

"Donna."

"Huh." Becca pursed her lips, recalling the stoic figure of Agent Greaves cracking a joke. "She didn't strike me as a Donna." But then Becca hadn't really known her.

Becca found a clear spot on the coffee table and placed the paper there with the name clearly showing so she would remember to take it into her bedroom later. She swallowed hard, remembering that same face caving in. When Becca sat back on the couch, she leaned against Steve's chest, finding comfort in their closeness. Steve seemed to understand because he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"Thanks for getting that for me," Becca mumbled.

"You're welcome."

"And for coming to visit. I know you had a long day."

"I was waiting for an excuse to visit anyway." Steve's fingers brushed the ends of her hair. "Just to make sure you were all right."

Becca smiled. "You don't need an excuse to come see me. I'm happy to see you whenever."

"Hmm. Well, how 'bout Wednesday evening?"

"Um, yes, Wednesday evening. Is that our date?" Becca was giddily excited at the prospect of finally going on a date with him.

"It is."

"Are we getting coffee?"

"No."

"Then where are we going?"

"I can't tell you."

"Aw, come on." Becca peered up at Steve. Okay, so he was carrying on the tradition of surprising each other with new places to go, which was fine, but at the very least she needed a clue to know how to dress. "Just give me a teeny hint."

Steve grinned down at her. "Can't. It's classified."

"No, it's not. You're such a liar."

"See, you told me that I'm a terrible liar, so that can't be right."

"Oh, shush your mouth and give me a hint."

"Well, I can't do both."

Becca pouted in an effort to look cute and sad enough that he would cave. Evidently Steve could see right through the charade because the only effect she had was to make him shake his head. Except she also noticed his eyes flick down to her bottom lip, which gave Becca an idea.

"I'll trade for a hint."

"A trade, huh?" Steve tilted his head, considering. "And what have you got that's worth a hint?"

Instead of telling him, Becca just kissed him. She was certain she had surprised him, as with their first kiss, but this time he didn't take quite so long to recover. There was something in the way Steve kissed that was sweet, almost clumsy, like he wasn't quite sure what he was doing but wanted to try. Becca wondered if he didn't have much practice. She broke the kiss, but lingered close enough that she could still feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.

"Your turn."

"All right," Steve yielded, his gaze soft. "We'll have to take my bike to get there."

Another ride on his motorcycle? Becca was already pumped. "Hmmm. Since that was an actual hint, I guess it's worth another kiss."

More to the point, Becca wanted to kiss him again. So she did, a few times, smiling against his lips as Steve set a hand on her waist, drawing her a little closer. Somehow Becca didn't think there would be any protest if she gave him lots more practice.

"You know," Becca said, pulling back and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think you were right. The chocolate shake tastes pretty good."

Steve shrugged and gave her a satisfied smile. "I did tell you."

"You did." Becca gave him a last peck on the lips. "Well, if you feel like staying for awhile, we could catch you up on another movie."

"How much TV have you watched today?" Steve asked, causing Becca to roll her eyes.

"Not much." Becca swiped the remote off the coffee table along with the remainder of her shake and settled back against Steve's chest. "Besides, recovering from a concussion or making sure you've seen _Raiders of the Lost Ark_? Keep your priorities in order, Steve."

Steve's hold on her waist tightened. "I am."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Well, no one can tell Fury that he didn't try. **

**Becca and Steve's first date is officially happening. Where is he taking her? That's for me to know and you to find out next week. **

**Thanks to everyone for their support! Special thanks to my guest reviewers since I can't message you directly. You guys are great, and I do appreciate the reviews. I also appreciate my other reviewers. And the followers and readers. You're all fabulous. **


	15. The Not Quite Classic First Date

Okay, this was the dress. It had to be because Becca had only about ten minutes before Steve arrived. After trying on a number of outfits, Becca finally landed on a knee-length wrap dress because semiformal seemed the best bet for a date. Steve's hint that they would need to take his motorcycle had been no help on appropriate attire, and the other clue she'd weaseled out of him was that there would be food. Becca's current guess was that they were getting dinner, so a nice dress would be appropriate. Besides, the plum color made her eyes pop without really bringing out her freckles, which was no small accomplishment, and the cut meant she would be able to ride a motorcycle without flashing too much thigh to passing cars.

Becca crossed the hall and knocked on Ally's half open door, peeking around the corner. Ally had been stretched out across her bed using her laptop, but she glanced up.

"Ready?" Becca asked.

"So ready," replied Ally, nudging her laptop aside for a full view. Becca opened the door the rest of the way. "You are rockin' it, girl."

"Thanks." Becca did a small twirl, her roommate's approval bolstering her confidence.

Ally threaded her hands and rested her chin on them. "I still can't believe you're going on a date with Captain America."

"I guess it is kinda crazy, but I don't know." Becca shrugged. "He's still just Steve."

"Just Steve," Ally snorted. "Yeah, just an amazingly hot superhero from over half a century ago. No big deal."

"Well, when you put it like _that_."

Of course, Ally was making a completely fair point, and Becca wouldn't have spent so long worrying over her appearance otherwise. However, Becca had spent long enough with Steve that she saw him as person rather than an icon – albeit a particularly attractive, heroic person – and that helped make the situation feel less surreal.

"I am putting it like that." Ally pursed her lips. "But fortunately you're also looking amazing. I hope you're wearing cute panties because that man's not going to be able to keep his hands off you."

And that was her cue to exit. "Thanks," Becca laughed, grabbing the handle to pull the door shut. "I can always trust you to keep it classy."

"That's me. All class, all the time."

Becca returned to her bedroom and ran a last appearance check. Her pinned up hair seemed to be holding thus far and her makeup hadn't smeared. Hopefully everything would stay in place during the ride. She hadn't been this nervous about a date in a long time. Becca knew it was silly to be nervous because she got on well with Steve. They had been alone together plenty of times, and they'd already kissed for god sakes. Even so, a date made things feel different, more official. What if this date was just awkward?

Then, Becca reminded herself of how much Steve had fumbled over explaining why he wanted to take her somewhere nice. If she was a bit nervous, Becca thought it safe to assume Steve was anxious, too. Really it was rather funny that Steve could face off against Nazis and aliens, but _she _made him nervous. With that in mind, some of Becca's nerves dissipated.

Since Steve should be arriving any minute, Becca filled up a glass of water and took her meds. She still upped the dosage to make it through the night and start of her day, but it had only been nine days since the invasion. Besides, Becca had decided that this method worked better anyway as it didn't involve her having to wake up in pain at an early hour to take another dose. She might continue to take her meds this way, a bit more Oxy to sleep and a bit more Adderall to perk her up after she woke up. The only downside was that the extra tablets had thrown off her daily balance a bit, but she was figuring out how to even up the doses. Her building tolerance to Oxy had taught Becca that sometimes meds took guesswork. As long as she didn't take a significantly higher dose, nothing really life threatening could happen.

Because she didn't want to lose all of her meds again, Becca put two spare doses in an empty prescription bottle to carry in her purse for emergencies and left the rest in the bedside table. She touched up her lip gloss and hurried for the door when the buzzer went off, shrugging on her dress coat.

Steve waited on the front steps, contemplating the buzzer as though deciding if he should push the button again. At the sight of a tie peeking out from his jacket, Becca was doubly glad for her choice in attire. She pushed open the door, surveying the street.

"Hi." As no one loitered close enough to prove a concern, Becca hopped up on her toes for a kiss. Now she was not one for lingering kisses in public, but either Steve was even less into PDA or he was being extra careful because his lips grazed hers for about half a second.

"Hi. You look nice," Steve complimented.

Becca lightly touched her hair. "Thanks. You're not looking too shabby yourself." But then, when did he ever? "How was the cleanup today?"

"It's going." Steve led them towards where Becca saw his motorcycle parked. "The shipment of stone to fix up Grand Central finally came."

"That's good." Having that major the landmark fixed might restore a sense of normalcy to the downtown area.

"Mhm. What'd they have you doing?" Steve asked, swinging onto his motorcycle.

Becca had been volunteering every day since Steve had last visited her, sometimes with Ally or other friends and sometimes on her own. It felt cathartic in a sense to go back and set right what the Chitauri had destroyed. She met a lot of people with horror stories of their own and hearing them made Becca feel less alone, even when she couldn't exactly share what she had gone through. Also, she had the chance to return the clothing she had borrowed from Tony Stark and Ms. Potts along with a thank you card, all of which had been accepted by a puzzled receptionist in the lobby of Stark Tower.

While in the downtown area, Becca had crossed paths with Steve only once. She would have given him a wink and passed by, but her friend Mel had recognized him and absolutely flipped. The picture that resulted had to be one of her favorites ever taken. Danny had volunteered to take the picture, and in it Mel beamed with excitement while Becca, Ally, and Steve were trying very hard not to crack up. Mel sighed enviously afterwards over Captain America's hand resting above Becca's waist. When Ally had replied with false sarcasm that it must mean he liked her, Becca had to fake a coughing fit to hide her laughter.

"I actually didn't go today. My work finally started getting it together and sent out a bunch of e-mails, so I had to hop on that. Then I had a hot date to get ready for." Becca got onto the motorcycle behind Steve, adjusted the skirt of her dress, and joked, "I figured you had the date part under control, so it was up to me to bring the hot."

Over the rumble of the engine starting up, Steve noted, "Seems like you've got that covered."

Becca blushed faintly, having expected a joke in return. That made two compliments in the first five minutes, and Steve hadn't even really seen her dress and how it did wonders for her figure. Becca looped her arms around him as the motorcycle rolled forward, pressing her cheek to his jacket. She had a good feeling about this date.

Her uptown Manhattan apartment was left far behind as they cut across the edge of Queens, passed straight through Brooklyn, and drove out further into Long Island. Becca rarely visited this area except to go to the beaches during summer, and so hadn't a clue about what might be a point of interest during mid-spring. She considered every turn off and exit sign in the hopes of figuring out their destination until Steve finally pulled into a parking lot.

The reason Becca knew the place to be a restaurant were the signs, one above the front door and the other stationed above the parking lot so as to be visible from the road. The signs designated the building "The Tank" in neat cursive with what looked to be three tiny bubbles floating above the name and "restaurant" printed beneath. The building itself didn't give off the restaurant look. It had to be around three stories, although the lack of windows made it difficult to tell, and was built of shimmering white stone. Whatever was inside, Becca figured it wouldn't be a standard restaurant, not that she minded in the least. They went interesting places together, so why should that change for their first date?

Anticipation built inside Becca with each step towards the front door, and she did nothing to hide it. Let Steve see that he'd picked somewhere she was excited to see. The inside lobby had been built of the same white stone, which even covered the floor in diamond-shaped tiles. However, a fish tank had been set in the wall behind the front booth. Small tropical fish darted around inside, and in the corner rested a spiny crab. How pretty. Becca glanced from the tank to the hostess, whose expression shift into uncertainty but rapidly smoothed out into a polite smile.

"Welcome to The Tank," greeted the hostess. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes," Steve affirmed. "Rogers, for two."

A look of amazed recognition crossed the hostess' face followed by a glance at Becca, but she didn't otherwise break her professional manner. She checked the screen behind the booth, picked up two menus, and beckoned them "this way, please." Considering the name of the restaurant and the small fish tank in the lobby, Becca theorized that the dining area would contain a bunch of other tanks with various fish. She wasn't prepared for what actually greeted her as they turned the corner out of the lobby.

The dining area didn't have lots of smaller fish tanks; it was one giant fish tank. The walls, the ceiling, even the floor were clear, revealing beyond them an artificial reef teeming with sea life. Becca gawked at a sea turtle gliding across the ceiling high above their heads and at two manta rays that slipped by under the floor. A path of tiles led across the glass to individual tables, bathed in the glow that rippled from the tanks. As they followed the path, Becca remembered hearing about this place on TV once, but being here made an even greater an impression. It would be like eating in the middle of an aquarium tank. This was hands down the coolest restaurant she had ever been in.

Becca tore her attention away from the fish when Steve lightly touched the small of her back. Embarrassed that she had almost walked right by the table, Becca quickly sat in the chair that Steve pulled out for her. The table had a candle that provided a surprising amount of light through the glass holder around it, but since they were situated right up against a wall Becca could see just fine already. A school of shiny fish jetted past in a flash of glinting silver, and she watched them go before turning to Steve.

"So you've picked the perfect place if you wanted me to spend this date not paying attention to you," Becca informed him, tugging off her coat and hanging it on the back of her chair. Her purse went on the floor between her feet.

"At least I know you like it."

"Um, obviously I like it." Becca waved at the glass wall beside them. "Look at this place. They've got turtles and fish and rays and eels –"

Steve leaned closer to the glass, examining point behind her. "Is that a shark?"

"Ooo, where?" Becca spun around, excitedly searching for the shark. "I don't see it." She looked back to Steve and knew immediately from his grin that there had never been any shark. "Listen, if I'm not pleased with your behavior, I'm feeding you to the turtles."

"I don't think turtles eat people."

"Then I'll disguise you in seaweed and feed you to the turtles."

"Great, well," Steve picked up his menu, "consider me truly terrified."

Becca tapped her foot against his leg. She picked up her own menu and muttered, "And you were doing so well." When she noticed Steve's brow crease in concern, Becca winked to let him know that he wasn't really in any trouble.

A waiter came by to take their drink order and left them to contemplate their meal selections. Becca methodically perused the entire menu, unsure of what she was in the mood to eat.

"I know that seafood goes with the theme." Becca flipped a page. "But it seems kinda wrong to eat it in front of the sea creatures. It's like…" She lowered the menu and pretended to speak with a passing fish. "Do you mind if I eat your brother?"

Steve frowned at his menu. "I suppose that's a fair point."

"Right? I'd feel like I was eating Bambi's mom." Steve gave her a blank look. "_Bambi_ is a Disney movie. He's a deer; his mom gets shot. It's very traumatizing to watch as a child."

"Uh huh. This isn't another movie I'm going to have to add to the list, is it? Because I think I already have a least a month's worth."

"No, although you definitely have to see at least one Disney movie." Becca debated over Disney classics and suggested, "I'd say go for _The Lion King_."

"I've heard of that one," said Steve, sounding pleased. "They made it into a musical on Broadway."

"Yes, they did. See? There you go." Becca picked up her menu again, but sighed. She was still no closer to choosing a meal, but then she usually pondered for forever over food options. "I don't know what I want. What are you getting?"

"I think I'm getting one of the fish."

Becca pointed to the tank without taking her eyes off the menu. "That's their family."

"At least I've narrowed down my options."

"Mmmm. Maybe I'll get scallops. I feel like shellfish have less awareness than fish."

Steve appeared on the verge of laughter. "You might be over thinking this."

"Probably." Becca set down the menu, having made up her mind. "But at least I won't feel like they're staring at me in horror while I devour their kin."

"I don't think I'm going to feel like that."

"That's 'cause you're a bad person."

"Right. That must be it."

The waiter returned with their drinks and took food orders before disappearing again, this time with their menus. Becca and Steve were left staring at each other across the table without any distractions, except, of course, the fish. Now Becca finally felt like she was on a date.

"So, here we are." Becca folded her hands into her lap. "Can you believe we've known each other for, what, almost two months now?"

"Yeah, I guess it has been almost two months." Steve looked at her thoughtfully. "It feels longer. I feel like I've known you longer."

"Actually… I feel the same." Becca found it strange to reflect back to a time only a few short months ago. Life had been so _normal_ then. The accident hadn't happened yet. There had been no aliens or Norse gods. Her chances of an encounter with a superhero had been practically nonexistent, never mind a whole team of them. But, despite all of the rough patches, Becca was glad she had met Steve and that they had stuck together. "You know, I was so close to kicking you to the curb when you told me that you were Captain America. I thought you might be a crazy person, and I'd somehow missed it."

"I'm not surprised." Steve took a drink from his glass. "Why didn't you tell me off? You could've."

"As I'm sure you've noticed I am a little bit crazy myself." Becca smiled when that got a chuckle. "What else though? Um, you hadn't said anything else that sounded delusional. I did see you on TV, so there was that. You come across as pretty trustworthy in general. And then I also sorta liked you, so I didn't want to think you were nuts."

"Uh huh." Steve nudged his fork and winced. "Sorry it took so long for me to figure this out."

"This?" Becca gestured between them. "You had more pressing issues to worry about than relationships. I didn't mind being a friend." Uncertainty suddenly pricked at her. Steve had to know that she wasn't trying to push him. "Of course, if this doesn't work, we can still be friends."

"Sure, but… I'd like to try."

After all she had said and done, apparently Steve could still doubt that she definitely wanted more than friendship. A slight insecurity lurked at the edges of his tone; his shoulders braced as if preparing for rejection. Becca could have rolled her eyes and given him another light kick for being so ridiculous, but that wouldn't have been good for his confidence. She reached across the table instead, placing a hand on top of his.

"Me too," insisted Becca. Although the tables were separated by a decent amount of space, they were in a busy public restaurant, so she pulled her hand back. "Smile, would you? I'm not _that_ bad at relationships."

Steve did smile. "That's one of the first things you said to me."

Becca couldn't recall much of their first conversation, but that seemed like a weird topic to have come up. "I told you I wasn't bad at relationships?"

"No. You told me that I should smile."

"Oh." Becca did remember thinking that he seemed like a dreadfully serious person when she had first laid eyes on him. Boy had she been wrong. "You did look very serious at the time."

"I was still figuring everything out," Steve admitted, the smile she had coaxed out him losing some of its brightness. "I hadn't even talked to anyone outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. for long."

Not wanting him to drift into unpleasant memories on their date nor talk more about the park in case Steve asked what she had been doing there, Becca joked, "Lucky for both of us. Otherwise you'd have eventually found someone less fun to hang around, and I'd be talking to some guy who was actually my own age and couldn't recite the Declaration of Independence from memory."

Steve cleared his throat. "When in the course of human events, it becomes –"

"Saaaave meee," Becca begged a passing puffer fish before he could recite more, even though she was mildly curious how far he'd be able to make it.

"Sorry. Sometimes it's hard to contain all this patriotism."

"That's okay. As long as we're not going to spend all our time sewing America flags and starting bald eagle sanctuaries, I think I can handle it."

"So much for the next date I had planned," Steve sighed.

Becca shook her head, but was distracted by a sea turtle swimming toward them. They were her absolute favorite sea animal, tough but adorable.

"How'd you decide on this place anyway?" Becca asked, watching the turtle dive lower in the water. "I know you were doing some poking around on the internet, but I feel like this isn't the first site you'd land on."

"Uh, well, I thought I should take you to dinner, but with everywhere we've gone I thought a regular place might be boring." Becca glanced at Steve, who was peering down towards the bottom of the tank, but with the turtle coming closer she returned to following its course through the water. "I read some recommendations about this place, and it seemed different. Of course, the aquarium closed down before the war, so it's been a long time since I've seen anything even close to this. You also mentioned that you like sea turtles."

"Did I? Oh yeah." Becca had forgotten, but it had occurred over text when a commercial with sea turtles happened to be on. "Jeez, your mind is a steel trap. You'll have to forgive my poor brain for not remembering every single thing you've ever said to me."

"I don't remember everything you've said to me."

Since the sea turtle had disappeared from her immediate view, Becca gave Steve a doubtful look. "I almost don't believe you."

Steve shrugged. "I've got a better memory than a lot of people, but I can't remember _everything_."

"I kinda want to give you a test, but I don't want to stress you out."

"What kind of test?"

Becca chewed on the inside of her lip and thought. "If I named a bunch of the fish, do you think you're remember at the end of dinner?"

"I think so. There will probably be different fish in this spot, but we can try if you'd like."

"Okay." Becca used her free hand to point out the fish. "That one's Billy. And that's Maggie. The yellow one, that's Flounder. Um, oh, that little silver one is Sir Reginald Ducksworth Huntington the Fourth."

"That's quite a name," Steve laughed.

"It's a family name. He's very proud of it," said Becca without missing a beat. "And the ray is going to be Rachael. And…"

* * *

Steve remembered all of the names, about which Becca seemed impressed but not surprised. The moment Becca had walked into the large tank, staring about her in wide-eyed excitement, Steve knew he'd chosen the right place. She'd barely stopped smiling the whole time. Before picking her up, Steve had been nervous that he would screw up somehow or that being on a date would change something between them, and not in a good way, but everything had gone just fine. Going on a date hadn't been much different than going anywhere else with Becca.

As Steve started his bike, Becca leaned around his shoulder and suggested, "We should go to the beach. If you get us back to the main road and go five more exits, I can take it from there."

"All right," Steve agreed, plenty willing to make their date last.

Long Island had always had a lot of beaches, but the high rising resorts along the shoreline were new to Steve. During the summer, the area had to be packed beyond what he remembered. Fortunately, with hot weather a few months away and the sun setting, there was little traffic. Steve kept expecting Becca to tell him to pull over, but she directed him past the resorts and huge, adjacent parking lots. Eventually Becca tapped his shoulder and pointed them down an inconspicuous, sandy road. There was only one car parked in the smaller lot at the end.

His bike rocked as Becca slid off the back. "No tourist beaches for us," she announced. "This one's a New Yorker secret."

"Sounds good." Steve slipped off his bike and tucked the keys into his pocket. After spending nearly all of his waking hours in a barrage of people, destroyed buildings, and construction, he wouldn't mind a bit of quiet.

At a glance, Steve estimated the beach to be around two miles, tucked behind tall dunes except where rocks distantly cut off one end. Two figures walked along the shoreline further to his left, but the rest appeared vacant. The sun had dipped behind the horizon, the purple-streaked sky soon to turn the indigo color of night. Becca, shoes in hand, made straight for the water. Steve followed behind, sinking into the sand with each step.

Becca yelped when a wave washed over her feet, hopping from foot to foot. "God that's cold."

"It's always cold," Steve pointed out, standing far enough back that his shoes wouldn't get wet. The water was never warm around here, though he supposed it would be even colder in springtime than summer.

"I know, but this is freezing."

"Then get out of the water," Steve laughed. He waved her towards the dry sand. "Come on. Before you get a cold."

"You can't catch a cold from being cold. That's a myth," Becca declared, but tramped over anyway. She held out a hand, and Steve took it, feeling the rough edges of her still-healing wound press against his palm.

They set off along the beach, following the vacant stretch of sand. Steve enjoyed the calming rumble of the waves and the warm pressure of Becca's hand as they walked. He liked being back in action and keeping busy, but he could get used to this on occasion. It was almost funny that it had taken Becca with her lively and occasionally sporadic personality to help him find peace in a quiet moment for the first time since he'd woken up. She had passed off the luck of them happening upon each other as a joke, but Steve did feel lucky. If Becca had strolled by him on the day they'd met, he'd be on his own. Sure, he would have pushed on with his life, but it would have been harder and probably taken longer.

Steve considered voicing those thoughts, but worried that he might end up rambling or that it would sound like he was trying too hard. Steve hoped that Becca knew somehow, and he hoped that what was between them worked out. There was always a chance that it wouldn't, but if he had a shot at being happy, Steve wasn't about to pass it up. He wanted the chance to make Becca happy too, not only because he owed her that much, but because she deserved someone who could do that for her.

Now that thought Steve knew he'd trip over for sure if he tried to get it out. He kept his mouth shut so as not to unintentionally spoil the quiet. Even Becca had been silent, which was real unusual for any prolonged length of time. Steve glanced sideways at her.

Becca was staring distantly out at the water, the corner of her mouth curved to a near frown. Steve had been so tangled up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed when her mood had shifted, and he mentally chastised himself for not paying attention to her.

"You all right?"

Becca started and looked up at him. "Yeah. I was just… thinking."

"About?" From the troubled expression she'd worn, Steve surmised that it couldn't have been anything good.

Becca seemed to consider, but she just smiled and said, "Nothing important."

Steve knew she was telling him that she didn't care to discuss whatever was on her mind, so he let it go without comment.

Suddenly, Becca changed their direction, walking them up to the edge of the dunes. She made to sit, but Steve tugged her hand lightly up, stopping her.

"Hold on." Steve shrugged off his jacket and put it down first so that she wouldn't be sitting in sand.

Becca dropped her shoes beside her and wrung her purse between her hands. The way she clutched her purse appeared agitated, and Steve continued to wonder just what Becca had been thinking about. Then she quite abruptly pulled open her purse and took out her phone.

"I thought I felt it go off," Becca stated. The screen of her phone brightened for a second and then went out. "My parents. They left a voicemail. Do you might if I check this quick?"

"No."

"Okay. Be right back." Becca jumped to her feet and hurried away towards the water, leaving Steve confused behind her.

There hadn't been a need for her to put distance between them, but then he liked to keep phone conversations to himself as well. Steve watched Becca put the phone to her ear, holding it up with her shoulder. Her purse, which she had taken along, disappeared in front of her. Maybe she needed to write something down? Steve wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but he knew something was wrong.

The voicemail had to have been a short one. Becca returned before he could even take a guess as to what was amiss, or had been because when she plopped down beside him, her smile flashed genuinely.

"Sorry about that," Becca apologized. "My parents are coming down on Saturday and having them visit is a bit stressful."

Steve supposed that did explain why she'd looked so pensive. Not that he wished stress of any kind on her, but Steve was glad to not be the cause. Becca had talked about her parents some, but he hadn't gotten the impression that she saw them much apart from holidays.

"What's the occasion?"

"Nothing. They're worried after…" Becca jerked her head up at the sky. "They need to make sure I'm really in one piece. I think their anxiety is rubbing off."

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help," Steve volunteered, though he didn't know what exactly he could do.

"Oh, you already are." Becca leaned against him, and Steve wrapped an arm around her waist. "Especially when I picture telling my parents that I'm seeing someone much, _much_ older."

Steve cringed. "That'll be a great first impression."

"Don't worry." Becca kissed his cheek. "I'm not really going to say it. I just like imagining their expressions. Well, I did think about telling them to truth, but my dad is kind of a chatterbox. He doesn't mean to be, but he just goes on and on and on until stuff comes out. Doesn't matter who it is either. Once he was talking with this random guy on the sidewalk and I overheard him telling this totally embarrassing story about me that he promised never to share."

Steve was tempted to ask about the story, but Becca clearly didn't want it to be told. "Huh. So that's where you get it from."

"Are you saying I've got a loud mouth?" Becca nudged his chest with her elbow. "Rude."

"No," Steve chuckled. "You're… talkative."

Becca huffed, "So you _are _saying I can't keep my mouth shut."

"No, I know you can. Mostly."

"Listen, mister. If it wasn't for my loud mouth you wouldn't even be here, so you're welcome."

"On this beach?" Steve pretended to look thoughtful. "Who knows? I'll never find out because you _had_ to talk to me. I was just sketching, enjoying the calm –"

"Hush."

"– minding my own business. Just one guy who wanted some peace and quiet –"

"Oh, shut up," Becca giggled.

"– sitting by myself, so clearly I wanted to be left alone, but –"

Steve cut off when Becca kissed him. Her lips tasted of faintly of salt, but they were still smooth.

"You like my loud mouth," Becca murmured, "and you know it."

"I do," Steve affirmed before they kissed again.

All trained instincts, the constant division of focus in an effort to remain alert, narrowed to Becca. The insistent press of her lips. How her mouth broke from his only to return with renewed fervor. Her left hand resting against his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Her right hand skimming upwards to curve behind his neck, pulling him lower.

Steve drew Becca closer, tugging her gently forward by the waist, and felt her grip on him tighten in response. An unexpected jolt of pleasure skipped through him as her teeth closed briefly on his bottom lip, which Becca must have sensed because after another kiss she nipped him once more. Steve hesitated to do the same, wondering how Becca would respond if he nipped_ her _bottom lip. The memory of her sighing in bliss over an ice cream shake as her eyelashes fluttered in near ecstasy crossed through his mind, and then he had to try. Carefully, Steve bit her lip and was rewarded with a soft sigh. He explored more kisses and the gentle pressure of his teeth, eager to pull more sighs from those pretty lips.

The ocean dulled to an indistinct noise, fading under each gasp for breath, every sound of gratification. Steve knew that he should care more if someone walked by, but it was dark and the beach had been all but deserted. And when Becca slipped her tongue into his mouth, all second thoughts scattered as Steve was swallowed by a new breadth of sensations flaring up through his body. She was teaching him how to kiss all over again in a way only experience could, and hell, she was _good _at it.

Somehow Becca ended up in his lap, and Steve wasn't sure whether he had guided her there or if she had moved of her own accord. Steve was rapidly losing his ability to distinguish one moment from the next. Yet, he was acutely aware of the motion of her tongue stroking his and the pressure of her thighs against his hips. How was it that yesterday he could think of Becca with nothing more than gentle warmth, when now she sent searing desire up through him as though he'd been suppressing it?

Becca's fingers fumbled between their chests and, before Steve could figure out why, she took one of his hands from her waist and guided it upwards. She had unbuttoned her coat. He could feel the dip of her waist and the material of her dress, thin as a second skin and damn she looked dynamite in this dress. Becca led him up further, not letting go until the tips of his fingers brushed against the swell of her breast.

Steve recognized the invitation, would have been a fool not to, but he hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't want to touch her. He did, all over. He wanted to feel her bare skin, to find out where to touch, to kiss to make her smile and sigh and moan. The heat her body promised fueled his instinct, and they'd only been kissing. If they went further…

Even though Steve wasn't about entirely sure about all of the boundaries of relationships in this century, he did know that they moved faster, and he was willing to follow Becca's lead, but not here. Touching her in that way was too intimate for an open beach. Steve drew back an inch, needing air to clear any tempting thoughts from crowding his head.

"Is everything okay?" Becca questioned breathlessly.

"Yeah. I just need a second."

"Okay." Becca chewed the corner of her lip, which had swollen from his attentions.

It had gotten dark, though the moon cut through the night sky and patches of clouds. Steve hadn't even noticed the change in light. What he did notice, though, was that Becca continued to tremble under his hold. The trembling had begun a little while ago, so he had marked it as a sign of passion, but now he thought he might have made a mistake.

"Are you cold?" Steve asked. The ocean breeze had picked up, and Becca must be feeling it with her legs mostly bare.

However, Becca shook her head. "No. Are you? 'Cause you can put your jacket back on. It's, uh, not like I'm using it." She wriggled slightly in his lap.

"I'm all right. It's just that you're shaking."

Becca's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Steve could feel her lift a hand from his shoulder. She stared for a couple of seconds, expression unreadable. It was enough time for Steve to begin to worry, but then she shrugged.

"Maybe I am a bit cold. Guess I was too distracted to notice." Becca winked. "Not that I mind."

Steve shook his head, exasperated. "I mind. Here." He buttoned her coat and glanced up to find Becca looking very hard like she was trying not to laugh. He almost sighed at Becca's disregard for her health, which he supposed would have been mildly unfair considering he had always done the same.

But Becca choked out, "You look like you're wearing my lip gloss."

Steve rubbed his lips together, and, sure enough, they slid against each other with unusual smoothness.

"Well, this isn't good." Steve touched a finger to his lips. The tip came away shiny with tinted gloss. "Coral's more my color."

Becca burst into a fit of giggles, pressing a hand to her mouth and leaning against his shoulder. Steve couldn't help but smile. He rubbed between her shoulder blades, avoiding near the base of her neck. Clearly Becca was fine, but he should still get her out of the cold before her trembling got worse.

Once the giggling had subsided, Steve prompted, "It's probably getting late."

"Yeah, okay. We should go." Becca picked up her purse and rifled through the contents. "Let me get you a tissue though to clean up that lip gloss, even though I think there would be some seriously amusing headlines in anyone saw you like this."

"Thanks, but one last thing first."

"What?" Becca asked, a tissue already clutched in her hand.

Steve kissed her, one final time before they returned to the city where he would have to be especially careful so that none of the press got ideas about lurking outside of Becca's apartment. Becca huffed out an amused breath, but kissed him back before handing over the tissue.

They got to their feet. Steve shook the sand off of his jacket, making sure to take a step away so the grains wouldn't blow onto them. He slipped it on while Becca slung her purse over her shoulder and picked up her shoes.

"Hey." Becca tapped his arm. "Race you to the parking lot."

Steve thought for a split second that he might have misheard. "You're kidding."

"Does it look like I'm kidding?" Becca replied in a strict tone. She lifted an eyebrow and took off.

Steve stared after her and laughed. He never knew what was going to happen with Becca, and that was one of the reasons why he liked her so much. To be sporting, Steve let Becca get a good distance before running after her.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**The Tank might not be real, but it is roughly based on a restaurant I went to in Sea World as a kid. I made it a classier and more spectacular version because Steve would want nothing but the best for Becca. **

**All the thanks to you spectacular readers. **


	16. Keeping Focused Is Hard

The week had been already been a long one, and it wasn't even over yet. Becca made a face at the mirror as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. First her parents had come to visit. She had been happy to see them of course. However, the sheer amount of questions they'd asked had been exhausting, especially when she had to keep straight which details to omit. Also, despite the fact that no symptoms had developed from her concussion and her hands were healing nicely, her parents had insisted that she do absolutely nothing herself. Then there was work to catch up on, and volunteering to squeeze in. Becca had attended a funeral for a friend's longtime girlfriend, which had been hard on everyone in attendance.

This morning Becca had realized that her meds were running low a lot faster than anticipated so she had to call Dr. Barrett's office and Derek. Neither had gotten back to her, so Becca kept anxiously checking her phone. She had too much to deal with right now to run out of meds. She needed to be balanced and functional, not an irritable, agonized mess. That was why Becca had been taking more of her meds this week, just to stay on top of things. Sometimes she took a little too much and would feel a bit overly energetic, like on her first date with Steve, but it never lasted long and she was always extra careful to take less for the next dose. The important thing was that she felt fine for the most part. Sure, there were moments of stress, but the Oxy and Adderall were helping her contain a lot of it. If only she could get a return phone call.

Becca picked up her phone off the sink. No messages. She sighed and replaced it so that she could brush her teeth quickly before leaving. Actually, she should have left already. She had been dawdling because she had hoped to hear back first. Also, she was anxious about meeting with Steve. Not because she was worried about their relationship. They had gone out twice now, and Becca thought everything was going great. No, there was another reason for her nerves.

When she had finally gotten into a three week self defense program, Becca had decided not to mention it to Steve until she taken a class so she could at least pretend not to be clueless about fighting. However, she'd gone and mentioned it in a phone call while half paying attention because she'd been cooking dinner at the time. Steve had offered to practice with her. He didn't have a lot of training in the specifics, but what he did have was plenty of practical experience. Becca felt like she couldn't say no, so she'd faked enthusiasm, too much apparently because now they were meeting _before_ the class. She hadn't been doing much yoga or running since the accident, so Becca knew she was out of shape. Not to mention that her awareness of self defense amounted to action movies and what she'd learned on YouTube. God, this was going to be embarrassing.

Unable to come up with any further reason to hang around, Becca threw a light coat over her workout clothes, called a goodbye to Ally, and headed for the subway. Steve went to a boxing gym that let him stay late on his own, so that's where Becca was meeting him since they were trying to keep their relationship out of the media's attention. At least she wasn't squaring off against Captain America in front of a room full of people.

Becca followed the directions on Google Maps to the correct building. The front door was locked, so she texted Steve. He opened the door a minute later, already glinting with sweat. Likely he'd been bench pressing a million pounds.

"Hi," Steve greeted.

"Hi."

Becca stepped inside, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the bright ceiling lamps. She waited until the door had closed so that there wasn't any chance of them being seen before leaning up for a kiss, which did make her feel slightly less reluctant about coming.

"You ready to learn how to fight?" Steve asked.

"If you're ready to get creamed," Becca replied with false bravado. Steve's expression reflected his amusement as he indicated that she should follow him.

They moved from the lobby through a caged wall into the training space, a huge room with a wood floor and blue walls that vaulted up to a high ceiling. Although there was a bunch of ceiling lamps, the space had a dingy quality, not disgusting, but this gym had definitely been well-used over the years. Various kinds of gym equipment stood against one wall, framed pictures of boxers that had no doubt trained here aligned above the equipment. In the opposite corner stood a boxing ring, a few chairs scattered outside of the ropes. Hooks hung down for the punching bags near the middle of the room. One of the hooks had a bag attached and ready to use.

"I checked through the gloves, but there's nothing real close to your size," said Steve apologetically as Becca trailed him to a stack of short, wooden bleachers. Becca set her drawstring gym bag next to his leather one on the middle step. "I don't think women come here. If they do, either they bring their own gloves or have bigger hands."

"Oh well, that's okay." Becca pulled off her coat and tossed it beside her bag. So not only was she going to embarrass herself, one bad move and she could probably fracture the bones in her hands, too. "It's not like I'd be wearing boxing gloves in a real fight anyway. Might as well get used to using my hands as they are."

"Sure, but we'll wrap 'em up." Steve held up a roll of white cloth, his hands already wrapped in the same material. "It helps."

Becca nodded, grateful for anything that would lower the chances of an injury. "Thanks." She held out a hand, watching him wind a strip of cloth around between her fingers and around her palm.

"So have you been in a fight before?" Steve questioned.

About two weeks ago. Remembering the sewers made Becca's stomach knot unpleasantly. It was a subject she tried to avoid thinking about as much as possible, even though that incident was her main reason for being here.

Whisking the thought away, Becca confided, "Second grade. A boy stole my friend's favorite doll and wouldn't give it back, so I punched him in the face. He was big for his age, so my class was pretty impressed." She held out her other hand to be wrapped. "The principal, not so much."

Steve grinned. "Sounds like you've got this down already."

"Yeah, but I figured I could come and give you a few pointers."

"I appreciate it." Steve finished tying off the cloth and let go of her hand.

"No problem." Becca flexed her fingers, testing out the feel of the cloth. The strips held tight, restricting the ability to spread her fingers apart but not much else. The cloth would also cushion her knuckles when they connected with any surface, preventing potential breaks as long as she didn't hit a truly solid object. No hitting Steve in the chest then. A tiny smile lifted the corner of Becca's mouth.

"Feel all right?" Steve checked. Becca nodded, and he gestured to the waiting punching bag. "Then let's see that punch."

Yes, it was stupid to find a punching bag daunting, but Becca sucked in an apprehensive breath as she approached. She tried to recall everything she had learned about how to throw a punch from different instructional videos. There had been so many tips, some of them conflicting. Becca stood about a foot away from the bag and followed the most commonly mentioned rules. She adopted a fighting stance, her right foot slightly in front of the left to keep her grounded. Her thumbs went on the side of her curled fingers to prevent the thumb from breaking. Both hands were supposed to be up at all times, palms towards her chest. Ready.

Not wanting to look like a total wimp, Becca threw all of her force behind the punch. The impact jolted up her right arm, and she bit back a yelp. That smarted, and the punching bag hardly moved. Stupid fucking, _ow_. Becca had to stop herself from shaking out her hand as she looked to Steve, bracing for a full critique. "How about with your left?" was all he said, so Becca punched the bag with her left fist. She was fairly certain the blow had even less of an impact, although it made her knuckles sting as much as the first punch.

"Not half bad," commented Steve, eyeing her contemplatively. Better than all bad. Becca would take it. Thank you, YouTube. "But you want to put more of your shoulder into it when you take a swing."

Becca threw a punch with her right hand, following through with her shoulder. The impact wasn't so hard on her this time as her shoulder absorbed some of the blow. Pleased with this development, Becca tried her left but her fist landed further over than expected, hitting close to the side of the bag.

Steve instructed, "A little less shoulder. Otherwise you lose control of your aim. Like this." He placed a hand behind her shoulder and took her wrist, guiding her through the motion inch by inch. When Becca copied the movement on her own, he nodded. "Good."

Pride flared up in Becca's chest. Maybe she wasn't going to totally suck at learning self defense. She repeated the alternating punches, growing more confident when Steve didn't correct her. Every once and a while he offered a word or two of advice, but each silence that followed a hit was a tiny victory. Becca sped up gradually, ignoring the twinging in her muscles, until she was battering the punching bag. They needed to start blasting montage music because she felt like freaking Rocky.

"Stay focused," Steve warned when a few punches landed closer to the edges of the bag than the center. "And you don't need to punch so hard or you're going to tire yourself out too fast. It's practice."

"Uh huh," panted Becca, embarrassed, mostly because she _was _getting tired.

"You're doing great," Steve assured her. Becca hit the bag a few times more, and stopped when he cupped her shoulder and squeezed gently. "That's real good, Becca. How about a break, and then we'll work on blocking?"

"Okay."

Becca swiped an arm across her forehead, wiping away sweat. Her tank top clung to her skin, damp with sweat. Even her legs were warm. Becca got the water bottle from her bag and gulped down half of the water. Then she took out the hand towel she'd brought to pat away sweat. Too late, she realized that a warm up would have been better for her muscles. She was tempted for a second to take half a tablet of Oxy, but the dwindling supply made her nervous. Best to hold off if she could. Besides, it wouldn't do much for soreness.

Since Steve was using the punching bag himself while she rested, Becca got down on the floor to stretch before they did more training. She watched the way Steve punched. His muscles bunched; the swings flew sharp and practiced.

Maybe because of how hot Steve looked while punching, Becca recalled the soft groans he had made when she kissed him on the beach. She didn't think he had even been aware he was making those sounds, but she had found them _very _satisfying, enough to make her want more. But Steve had stopped them from going any farther. Becca wasn't sure if it was because they had technically been in public or if he meant for them to take things slow. However, she intended to find out as soon as the right moment presented itself. Now wasn't that time though, so Becca focused on stretching.

While in the seated straddle pose, which wasn't as on point as it had been when she did yoga regularly, Becca heard Steve walk over. She straightened up, careful, as always, not to lift from her neck but to move from the base of her spine.

"How are you feeling?"

Becca gave him a thumbs-up. "Blocking, yeah?"

"Yeah." Steve stretched down a hand, and she took it. "We're going to do that in the ring."

"M'kay," said Becca as he helped her to her feet.

The punching bag had been daunting, but stepping into the boxing ring with Steve was downright intimidating. Becca trusted him, and obviously Steve would take it easy on her. But, stupid as it was, she felt inadequate knowing that she couldn't train at his level. As Steve set himself across from her, Becca nervously bounced on her heels. She could do this. Blocking had to be easier than punching, right? No, that didn't sound right at all, especially since the punching bag had been stationary.

"So first I want to see how you would block someone," Steve stated.

Becca anticipated that he would say more or at least give her a warning, but Steve reached straight for her. She gasped, lurched back a step, and almost lost her balance while smacking his arm away rather harder than she meant to hit him.

"Well, that's one way to do it." Steve didn't quite manage to conceal his amusement. "But I don't think it's the best way."

"You didn't warn me," Becca snapped, blushing.

"You're not going to get much warning," Steve pointed out with a shrug.

Becca's eyes narrowed. "You and your logic." Steve just grinned, looking unfairly cute, so Becca sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Thank you for preparing me for a real fight. Now please show me your superhero blocking moves so that I may also be a badass."

"All right. What I want you to do –" Steve raised his arms part of the way, adopting the fighting stance, which reminded Becca to do the same. "– is try and hit me."

"'Try' being the keyword," Becca muttered, but she clenched her hands into fists.

On the extremely slim chance that she managed to hit him, Becca didn't want to cause serious pain, so she aimed for the center of his chest, exerting little force behind the strike. Steve deflected her arm easily, pushing it aside at a downwards angle. He curled his fingers, a gesture for her to try again, so Becca did. She tried several times, switching up arms and the exact location of her aim. Steve blocked her every time, always with a push out and down.

"I think I've got it," Becca informed him after awhile.

Steve waited a beat, probably to let her gulp in a breath, and then asserted, "Let's find out."

When Steve reached for her left side, Becca swung out, using her palm to shove his arm down and away. Steve nodded once, an abrupt jerk of his head, but that was enough to let her know that she had blocked correctly. His other arm darted out, hand open. He appeared to be trying to simply tap her in order to signal a hit. Becca blocked that attempt as well.

Like with the punching bag, the moves to block gradually grew faster at a pace Steve set. Becca concentrated, determining, if she could, which arm Steve was going to use by the beginning movements in the connecting shoulder. It became more difficult as Steve tried to fake her out or moved too fast, but he would always slow for a short while so that she could deflect a few hits before he pushed her again. Becca sort of felt like she was in a video game and had to guess the opposing player's moves. Left, block, right, miss, right, block, left, block, left, block, left block. Her heart pounded, sending adrenaline rushing through her veins.

Finally, Steve grabbed her wrist instead of allowing her to knock him aside. "Need a break?"

Becca hesitated, but if she pushed herself too hard too fast, Steve would probably make them stop training all together. "A short one."

Becca strode over to the edge of the ring, where Steve pushed down the ropes for her to step over, having vaulted them first himself. They went over to their bags, and the first thing Becca did was check her phone. The message light blinked, causing a brief flash of anticipation, but it was a text from her friend Kellyn, not Dr. Barrett's office or Derek. Tomorrow. They'd surely get back to her tomorrow. It hadn't been twenty-four hours yet. Becca dropped the phone into her bag and asked Steve to point out the bathroom, which was combined with the locker room at the back. She spent as little time in there as possible since the area positively reeked. However, Becca did gulp some cold water from the fountain and retied her drooping ponytail.

"You're doing well," Steve praised when she returned.

"Thanks." Becca clenched and unclenched her hands to stretch them. "And thanks for working with me. I was kinda worried this was going to be a colossal failure, but I'm having fun."

"Me, too." Steve pressed a quick kiss to her temple, and the slowing thud of Becca's heart skipped over a beat. "Ready for the next round?"

"Definitely."

They crossed over to the ring and squared off against each other.

"Want to try getting in a hit while blocking?" Steve proposed. "If you can get in a hit, that is."

Becca grinned and put up her fists. "Bring it."

* * *

The hesitancy that had initially dogged Becca around the gym had evaporated. All it had taken was a little time and encouragement. Steve knew that she wouldn't have backed down from a challenge. He didn't push her to her limits, but neither was he letting her off too easy. Rather, Steve set a pace he considered fair and watched for when her strength began to flag or her breathing became gasps, signs that she should rest. Undoubtedly the self defense class Becca was taking would give her more specific instruction than the army had given him, but Steve felt certain that he was giving her a solid base.

It was good that Becca was learning, too. The streets of New York weren't always friendly, especially at night. Becca wouldn't be winning prize fights anytime soon, but at least she could put up a fight if it came down to one. Much as he'd like to be, Steve couldn't be around to protect her all the time. The invasion had already proven that. Besides, by deciding to take a class, Becca had proven she wanted to hold her own. Steve wasn't surprised, as she didn't like to do much leaning on anybody, but he was proud of her. And he'd discovered that her expression of fierce concentration was oddly attractive.

As they continued to spar, Steve allowed himself to move slightly faster, testing if Becca could keep up. He let her get past his defense so she could see how it felt to connect. Her fist slammed into his ribs. The blow caused a momentary burst of pain, but Steve almost laughed because Becca's eyes went wide with shock. Concern flooded her expression, though it was tinged with the beginnings of a triumphant smile. The smile flared out as quickly as it started.

"You let me do that," Becca accused, fists clenched at her side.

Steve shrugged. It wasn't as if they were evenly matched. He'd been letting her do a lot of things, so he was confused as to why this particular instance made Becca frustrated, but clearly it did. Her nose wrinkled, and she flexed her shoulders as though throwing off an unwanted hand.

When Becca launched back into practice, Steve didn't let her get through again. He hoped that would clear away her frustration, but with every deflected punch, Becca looked increasingly annoyed. Steve had avoided their usual playful teasing, not wanting to knock down her budding confidence, but he thought it might lighten the mood.

"I thought I told you to try to get in a hit," Steve said, deflecting another attempt and reaching for her shoulder.

Becca swatted him away. "And I thought I told you to bring it." Steve tapped her rib cage and her right shoulder in quick succession. After making a noise close to a growl, Becca muttered, "Okay, bring it ten percent less."

Obligingly, Steve returned to a pace that Becca could maintain. "Don't look where you're going to aim."

"What?"

"You always look at where you're going to aim your next blow before you're even swinging. That's how I know where to block." There were other telltale signs, but Steve considered this habit to be the most detrimental in a fight.

"Well, where should I look then?"

"Wherever's going to keep you focused."

Becca's gaze locked onto his, forcing Steve to fall back on his peripheral vision to guess her next movements. At first her aim worsened, but before Steve suggested she try something else, Becca inexplicably began to improve. His face must be giving away clues because she blocked the intended hits faster. If Steve went at even two-thirds of his full speed she would lose, but Becca had found her rhythm. There were mistakes – a missed block, a hand sliding against sweat-dampened skin – but she had found it.

And Steve felt another change. The air seemed to thicken as it would be during an impending thunder storm in the heat of summer. It was becoming harder to breathe, each inhale sounding increasingly ragged to his ears. His heart pounded, the beats pairing with the clap of their palms. Tension coiled down through Steve as he stared into Becca's eyes, bronze and glinting with ferocious light. His skin prickled and wherever she pushed away a blow it burned. Each time they touched felt like winding back further and further to throw a grenade, stretching as far as he could go. Then release and watch the world explode.

Steve reached out. He passed a deflecting swing and the heel of his hand connected above her hip. The rest of his hand followed, lingered. Becca grabbed his other arm and pushed it aside without letting go. They both stepped towards each other in the same instant, chests and lips crashing together. Steve slid his hand over her body from the curves of her hips until he cradled the back of her head. With the other he touched her anywhere and everywhere, filled with a need to map her body with the press of his fingers even as she did the same to him.

Their frantic kisses broke when Becca pulled her shirt up over her head, broke again when Steve pulled off his own because Becca's fingers were inching the fabric impatiently up. The feel of her skin against his was incredible, smooth and slick. He cupped one of her breasts, the weight almost filling his hand. Their groans tangled together, reverberating into each other's mouth. Only her bra divided them, covering her breasts completely from him, and Steve reached around to get rid of the obstacle. He fumbled with the clasp for a few seconds before it snapped open so that Becca could peel the bra off. The tips of her bare breasts grazed his chest, sending tiny shocks of pleasure pumping through his blood.

Steve could barely think, overwhelmed by unconscious urges demanding fulfillment, but it did occur to him that this was happening too fast. He had never gone past kissing before, and if he didn't slow down, everything would be over in an instant. They'd be left with nothing but the hazy memory of desire. Becca deserved better, and Steve _wanted _better, wanted it enough that he made himself lift his head and suck in a calming breath.

"You okay?" Becca panted.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I just think we should take this slower."

Becca didn't seem to understand him, blinking in confusion. "You want to stop?"

Steve saw disappointment clouding her features and quickly said, "No. I want..." He ran his fingers through the ends of her hair. "I want to remember this."

"O-oh. Okay. Uh. Come here." Becca took his hand, and Steve allowed her to lead him over to a corner of the ring. "Sit."

With the padded corner post at his back, Steve sat with Becca kneeling down onto his lap. As she unwound the cloth from her hands, Steve looked at her, really looked. Her hair was messy, some strands clinging to her neck and cheeks while others fluffed out of the ponytail, but the bright lights had turned its muted blonde to slick molasses. Her eyes shown, surrounded by a fan of short, dark eyelashes. Her nose sloped gently; her freckles clustered thickest on a slight bump right beneath the bridge. Her lips, well, Steve could already picture those with his eyes closed because he had always thought she had the prettiest smile. Becca had a thin scar running from her jaw line to halfway down the base of her throat that he had never noticed until now, the mark of a story he had yet to discover.

Even if Becca wouldn't have minded, Steve felt awkward about staring at her breasts for too long, so his gaze slipped hastily over. They weren't as big he had seen in photos tacked up in army barracks, but from that brief glimpse he thought they were just as round, and her nipples nearly matched the same dusky pink as her lips. Her sides dipped in, curving like an hourglass, a birthmark above her left hip standing out against the otherwise pale flesh. She looked stunning, even dappled in sweat with her eye makeup smudged and her hair unruly.

Steve had taken no more than a quarter minute of quiet admiration, but Becca was chewing her bottom lip uncertainly when he met her gaze. He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over the scattered freckles.

"You're beautiful."

Becca blushed. Steve smiled, thinking it funny that she could kiss him while half naked but those two words made her cheeks tinge pink.

"I…" Becca self-consciously brushed at her hair. "I guess you look all right, too." Her lips curved upwards. "You know, maybe."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Somewhere between model and Greek god."

Steve chuckled and kissed the corner of her mouth. "I think I can live with that."

"Well, I know I can." Becca tipped her head, and her lips pressed fully against his.

The frantic urgency of their kisses had dipped, but these held languid, smoldering passion. Steve blindly unwound the cloth strips from his hands and let them drop so that he could feel Becca properly. He traced over her shoulders and down her back, exploring what had only been lines and curves drawn on a sheet of paper until now. But nothing in his art classes had prepared him for the silken texture of her flesh, how it gave under his hands. Bragging stories told over campfires in Europe hadn't prepared him for the way Becca's back arched when he cupped her breasts or the needy whimper that escaped when he experimentally flicked his thumb across a nipple. Steve memorized her body with his hands, relying initially on long-ago advice until he could decipher when he was doing something right by Becca's response alone.

While Steve tried to focus on Becca's body, sometimes her attentions proved too much of a distraction. Her lips trailed along his jaw and over his neck, kissing and nipping. Steve was paralyzed for a good minute when Becca lingered over a point near the base of his neck where every pinch of her teeth and lick of her tongue sent an answering tug of desire shooting through him. The glide of her hands over his chest and arms was pleasant, but Steve discovered that what really made him hot was the light scrape of her fingernails.

Becca dipped near to his waist several times, but her hand caressing between his legs came as a sudden shock. His hips twitched up, and Steve grunted against the shoulder where he had been pressing kisses. He was intensely aware of Becca smiling against his neck and the stroke of her fingers running back and forth. His breath hitched in his throat. His pants had felt confining for a while, but suddenly they were painfully tight. Steve lost the ability to move. Hell, he could barely breathe her hand felt so damn good. His entire world collapsed to the feel of Becca's hand stroking him until she lifted her head.

"No one's touched you like this before, have they?" Steve wasn't sure it was a real good sign that his inexperience was that obvious, but as long as she didn't stop, he didn't care how obvious it was or not. Voice lodged in his throat, Steve shook his head. Becca's smile took on a wicked edge. "Well, I'd be more than happy to show you what you've been missing out on if you'd like." Steve had the feeling he'd very much like that. Becca glanced around them. "But… maybe not here? Since it's your first time."

Steve glanced over her shoulder at the caged wall across the lobby, having forgotten where they were. Becca was right. They should be somewhere nicer, more private than an old gym. At the very least, she deserved better. Fortunately the owner hadn't decided to make this his first night to show up or anyone else for that matter. They should get dressed just in case. Becca must have decided something similar because she gave him a quick kiss and got to her feet.

"You know what?" said Becca as she picked up her bra.

Steve stuffed the strips of cloth they'd both torn from their hands into a pocket. "What?" He stood up, using the pole as leverage

"That wasn't bad at all for a ninety-four-year-old virgin." Becca shrugged on the bra and grinned at him.

"I don't think the bar is very high for ninety-four-year-old virgins," Steve pointed out. He wasn't even certain how well he had done as it had been so blatantly apparent to her he was a virgin. Sure, Becca seemed to enjoy herself, but Steve was fairly certain she had been with someone more experienced.

As Steve went to retrieve his shirt, Becca grabbed his hand. "Hey." He stopped, and, to his surprise, noticed that she looked guilty. "I shouldn't have said it like that. It was supposed to be a compliment, but clearly you were _so_ good that I can't think straight."

Steve smiled, feeling better. "You might even say I was swell."

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Becca laughed, but now Steve knew she was just teasing. "I think you're still going to need practice. Lots and lots of practice."

Steve didn't think he'd mind in the least. He leaned down and kissed her. "Anything for my best girl."

"Your best girl, huh?" Becca retied her loose ponytail. "How very old timey. Does that make you my man?"

"If you'd like."

"Oh, I'd like."

Steve retrieved his shirt and pulled it over his head. It clung uncomfortably to the sweat on his chest and back. He could really use a shower. Of course, he had to get Becca home first. When looked to her, Steve noticed that she was shifting shoulders and wincing. Specifically, Steve noted that she appeared to be keeping her neck very still. He should have been more careful. All the physical activity he had put her through tonight was probably too much.

"Do you need your medication?" Steve asked, ready to spring for her gym bag.

Becca frowned. "No."

"It's all right if you do."

"I know. I'm just not used to this much of a workout. It's catching up with me." Becca squatted next to her shirt. "I just need a shower and sleep. And some water."

"I'll get your water bottle."

Steve expected a protest, so he immediately hopped over the ropes, but Becca replied, "Thanks. Would you actually mind filling it from the fountain in the locker room? It's almost empty anyway."

"Sure."

Maybe Becca was going to be a bit less stubborn about letting him help now. Steve knew that she'd never completely lose her stubborn streak, and wouldn't have wanted her to, but he'd be content if she allowed him to help every once and a while. The water bottle was sitting beside Becca's bag, about a third full. Steve brought it into the locker room, the button for the water fountain ice cold under his thumb as he topped off the bottle. After bringing this to Becca, he was coming back for a cold drink. Becca was shuffling through her bag when he returned. She withdrew her hands and took a step forward.

"Ugh, yes. Cold water." Steve handed over the bottle, which Becca pressed to her cheek. "Now you go take a nice long drink. I haven't seen you drink anything since we've been here. You need to stay hydrated or your muscles can stop working, and that's, like, ninety percent of you right there."

"All right," Steve chuckled. "I'm going."

Steve returned to the locker room to take that drink and splash water over his face to cool off. By the time he finished, Becca had packed up her things and stood over by the punching bag, very slowly going through the motions of a punch. Steve brought over their bags.

"We can do this again sometime if you want." Steve dropped their gym bags in order to get the punching bag off its hook. "Maybe after your class."

"Careful what you wish for. I'll probably go through one session and come out with crazy ninja skills, so you better watch out."

"Then you can show me something new." Steve hoisted the punching bag up over one shoulder and leaned down for their gym bags.

Becca snatched them up. "I got 'em. Unless you want to trade?"

"I didn't drink all that water to not use my ninety percent muscles," Steve replied, but decided to put the punching bag away and then work on getting their gym bags.

There was an equipment closet in the front lobby, and Steve set the punching bag they'd used with the others. He closed the closet and shut off all the lights for the training room. Getting his gym bag turned out not to be a problem, but when Steve held out his hand a second time Becca just gave him a look. Filling up her water bottle must have been enough help for the night.

Steve reached for the front door handle. "You sure you've got everything?"

"Uh… whoops, forgot one thing." Becca bounced up on her toes, and Steve obligingly leaned in for a kiss.

A fist thumped into his chest. Steve flinched. The hit didn't even hurt, since Becca had barely put force behind the swing, but it did startle him.

Becca smirked. "That's right. Got in a hit." Steve had to hand it to her, she didn't give up easy. Of course, he couldn't let a sneak attack like that go. "Are we going or what?"

"Yeah, we're going. Let me just…" Steve hefted his gym bag over one shoulder. With that out of the way, he grabbed Becca by her waist, lifting her straight up off the ground and holding her against his chest. He grinned at her squeal of surprise and outrage. "All right, now we can go."

"Put me down!"

Steve maneuvered his hold on Becca so that he could pull open the door. "If you'd kept focused like I told you, you could have blocked me."

"Oh, ha ha." Becca smacked his shoulder. "Put me down before I try a real punch."

"From that angle?" Steve tried to sound disappointed while also attempting not to laugh. "I guess I didn't teach you much of anything."

"Steve, I swear to god…" Since he knew Becca would have been embarrassed to be carried down the street, not to mention the scene that would cause, Steve set her down. Becca adjusted the gym bag on her back and sniffed grumpily. "You're lucky I don't make a habit of hitting senior citizens."

"I know," Steve placated, flipping the remaining lights off. "I'm sorry." He didn't think she was really mad, but it couldn't hurt not to push too much.

"Hmph. Can't even be mad 'cause you're too freaking cute." Becca grumbled so quietly that Steve knew he wasn't meant to hear. He didn't respond exactly, but, encouraged by the comment and relatively empty sidewalk outside of the open door, he kissed the top of her head.

"Come on. Let's get you home."

"Okay," Becca sighed, and Steve heard her add in a murmur, "So unfair."

They left the gym, walking side by side but with a noticeable gap between them. Steve had grown so used to Becca taking his arm when they walked that the distance felt strange, now more than ever. He reminded himself that it was for Becca's own good. The idea was to keep her out of the spotlight for as long as possible. With everyone carrying some form of camera at all times, it was a difficult plan to execute unless they were careful. If the extra space kept Becca undisturbed, then that wasn't so high a price to pay. Steve felt her hand brush his for a second, and when he looked, Becca smiled. Not so high at all.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS!**

**So things got a little steamy. On that note, I did write a fuller version of that part of the chapter. However, I have seen fics get deleted from this site for being "too explicit" and decided to play it safe. ****Any future smut scenes will be written in the same M-rated way I did for this chapter. ****_BUT _if you would like to read the fuller version, it's available on AO3. Simply follow the link on my profile page and use the index to jump to Chapter 16. For those unfamiliar with AO3, if you really enjoy the chapter and this fic, you can leave kudos by clicking the kudos button on the bottom of the page. **

**Switching topics, in this chapter it was noted that Becca and Steve have been on two dates. While up until now the chapters dealt in detail with basically every time they met, this will no longer be the case. Each chapter will be a point in their relationship which shows some insight into Becca's drug addiction as it becomes increasingly problematic. I should be including at least one detail in each chapter to give an idea of how much time is passing between chapters while they're out adventuring and being a couple. **

**Phew. Okay. Thanks everybody. You've all been great. Update in a week! **


	17. Moves and Countermoves

Steve rubbed a towel vigorously across his scalp, which left his hair dry but standing on end. He hung the towel on its hook and picked up a comb to tame the mess. He felt great. As of yesterday, there were two less threats on Earth to be concerned about since Thor had finally been able to take Loki and the cube home to Asgard. While Grand Central had been operational within days of the invasion, final repairs had been made this morning. There was a lot of remaining work to be done downtown, but with the station completed, it felt like they were getting somewhere.

His cell phone went off, and Steve went into his bedroom to check the waiting text.

"_Would you mind meeting at 7:30 instead? Sorry." _

The final reason for feeling particularly good about today was, of course, that he was going out with Becca. This time she had chosen the place and given him the singular clue "old for me, new for you." Since the clue could cover a whole lot of things, Steve hadn't even tried to guess as to what they would be doing.

Concerned at the half hour difference, Steve replied. "Is everything all right?"

"_Yeah. Just running late"_ was the immediate response.

"I guess I can wait."

"_Thanks :*" _

Steve tucked the phone in his pocket in case she texted him needing longer and returned to the bathroom to finish fixing his hair. In the additional time, Steve watched the news and sorted through a thick folder Nick had once given him that included a lot of documents about S.H.I.E.L.D.

Agent Finch had been strongly hinting that Steve should join and Agent Romanoff as well as a few other agents had also talked to him about what working for S.H.I.E.L.D. was like. Steve was still peeved at their decision making about the cube and Nick's choice to have Becca followed, but S.H.I.E.L.D. did a lot of good work, too. The missions might be more covert across the board, but joining S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't seem to be all that different from joining the army. Besides, Peggy had helped found the organization, which meant there had to be good intentions at its core. Once the cleanup was over, he would once again have nothing to do, and he couldn't go back to sitting around. If he joined S.H.I.E.L.D., at least he'd be helping people with the skills granted to him. Steve was seriously considering accepting the offer.

Finished reading another report, Steve flipped it over, revealing Peggy's departmental file. He briefly touched the bottom of her picture. He hadn't called her yet. He had gone through the file, knew that she was still alive, had gotten married, retired years ago. Steve hoped she was happy. He should talk to her soon and find out, but he was afraid of how strange it would be. For him only three months had passed. For her it had been a lifetime. So much had changed. The world had gotten bigger; the _universe_ had gotten bigger. And he had Becca now.

Steve added Peggy's file to the stack and stared down at Bucky's file. Pain hit him in that first instant. He didn't know if it would ever stop hurting to look at Bucky, although the sense of loss dulled faster than it had initially. There were supposed to be there for each other, 'til the end of the line, and Steve had failed him. That would always be his biggest regret, not the words unspoken, but that he hadn't saved the one person he had cared about the most. That Bucky never had the chance to live the full life that Steve had wanted for him.

Taking a shaky breath, Steve shut the entire folder. He couldn't wallow now. Bucky wouldn't have wanted him to, would've called him a punk and told him to think about the pretty girl he was going to see instead. The clock indicated that it was about time to leave, so Steve set the folder in its box. He ducked into the bathroom one last time to check his appearance – his hair needed a cut soon – and headed out.

The place Becca had designated to meet was at the edge of uptown Manhattan. When Steve arrived, the sidewalk was deserted. He surveyed the fenced in warehouse, barely lit in the orange glow of the streetlights. It looked old and abandoned, but the locks and Private Property signs on the gate were new and the piles of lumber and metal beams indicated a renovation. Trees clustered behind the warehouse and a faded brick tower rose up over the canopy, a watchtower built around the city during the Great War.

Steve glanced down the sidewalk again and spotted Becca at the end of the street carrying a huge bag. He jogged towards her as he could tell that Becca was struggling with the weight. The bag looked like the ones they had carried in the army with all their supplies, although those bags had been a different color and material. As soon as he got close, she set the bag on the ground.

"Hi," Becca gasped.

"Hi." Steve gave her a quick kiss and picked up the bag before Becca could try. "What's in this?"

"You'll see." Becca stretched out her arms as they walked up the street. "In retrospect, this could have been done at one of our apartments, but I got really excited and… Well, we're here now."

"Where is here?"

Becca nodded towards the warehouse. "Ally works for her dad, and he owns this property. He's a contractor. They're going to demolish the place and put up apartments."

"Huh." It seemed to Steve that all around the edges of the city apartments had either been put up or were in the process of being put up.

"Yeah, but with the invasion cleanup their equipment is currently tied up, so Ally gave me these." Becca pulled a set of keys from her coat pocket and jingled them. "She, uh… recommended this place."

"The warehouse?" Steve couldn't imagine why. It looked about to fall down.

"Yes, I'm taking you to a gross, unstable warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Surprise!" Becca laughed and opened the gate. "No, the tower. There's no one around this time of evening. One sec, I need to get out the lantern."

Steve lowered the bag so that Becca could reach. "I think you gave me the clue backwards."

"What?"

"You said something old for you, new for me. The tower was built during the First World War."

"Really?" Becca pulled out an electric lantern and zipped the bag shut. Since the lantern had been on top, Steve still had no idea what else was in there. "Well, the hint wasn't for the place anyway. It was for what's in this." Becca tapped the bag with the lantern. She flipped the switch, flooding the area with bright white light. "But are you okay with going up there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Steve assured her. He didn't have any memories of going up the watchtowers, which had been active but unneeded in both wars.

"Okay, cool."

They stepped through the gate, and Becca shut the padlock before they strolled towards the tower.

"So is whatever's in this bag why you were running late?" Steve asked.

"No."

Steve waited, but Becca didn't add a reason. "Did something happen?"

"Don't worry about it." Her mouth thinned in annoyance. "Obstacles arose, ensued, were overcome."

"So everything's all right?"

"I guess."

Steve didn't think that sounded very reassuring. "Anything I can –"

"Oh my god," Becca snapped. "I don't wanna talk about it, okay?"

Steve's eyebrows rose, and he choked down the rest of his offer. Apparently he'd hit a real touchy subject. "Fine. Sorry I asked."

They walked the rest of the way to the tower in silence. Steve kept his eyes studiously ahead and his mouth shut. He chided himself for pressing her, but it was so damn hard to stay quiet when he knew Becca had something bothering her. Besides, that hadn't given her a reason to snap at him. Becca could have told him calmly that she wanted to talk about something else.

Before they stepped inside, Becca sighed and said, "I'm sorry. I'm, um…" She shook her head.

Steve noticed that her eyes glinted like she might start crying. He winced, feeling responsible, and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

At his touch, Becca leaned into his chest. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Steve hugged her close. "I shouldn't have pushed. I just don't like thinking you're upset."

"I know. It's my – I'm having a rough day, but it's gonna be fine and, um…" Becca gazed up at him with watery eyes. "I just want to spend time with you and not think about anything else."

If a distraction was what Becca needed, then Steve would do his best to be that distraction. "Then let's get up this tower because all I can think about is what's in this bag."

Becca blew out a relieved breath. "M'kay, let's go."

Her hand gripped his, and Steve followed her into the tower. The spiral stairs were relatively intact, coated in a layer of dust and grime. There were two sets footprints, not too old, visible in the light from the lantern Becca held aloft. Steve surmised that the smaller set was Ally's. Becca had said Ally "recommended" this place so the other set was likely to belong to her boyfriend. They must have snuck in here to be alone, too. Steve felt kind of like a teenager stealing off to a lover's lane. At least, he assumed this was what it felt like since he'd never had the experience.

There had been a time where they would have been able to see more of the city from the top of the tower, but New York had grown since then. Still, the view was fair, the silhouette of apartment buildings and skyscrapers lit up against the darkness. Becca tugged him over to the edge of the balcony, fortunately no longer appearing on the verge of tears. In fact, she grinned as her eyes flicked to the bag. Steve knew Becca was teasing him when she examined the city in a knowing manner instead of revealing what she had packed, so he leaned into her ear.

"If I don't get to see what's in the bag in the next ten seconds, I'm peeking," Steve murmured.

Becca's grin widened. "You wouldn't dare."

"Nine. Eight."

"Okay, okay." Becca shoved him lightly. "Like a kid at Christmas. Take this." She handed him the lantern as Steve lowered the bag to the floor.

The first thing Becca pulled out was a large, heavy blanket which must have taken up the majority of space on its own. Steve helped her unfold it so they could sit, after which she took out the rest of the items, stacking them in a pile. He might not know what they were exactly, but he recognized the look of the boxes. Becca had brought games, six of them. The top one showed a picture of a strange contraption with cartoon mice and was called "Mouse Trap." A square piece of paper attached to one corner had the number "1963" written on it in Becca's large print.

"There are a lot of popular games you've missed out on, so I thought I'd bring you some of the ones we can play with two people," Becca explained while Steve inspected the boxes. "They're not all in the best shape, but they do have all the pieces. I wrote down the years they were invented. It was kinda fun. We don't have to play all of them, and I know some of them are meant for kids, but I figured it was worth a try."

"Sound like fun," said Steve, setting Mouse Trap on top of the pile once more. Playing these games meant six less things to catch up on. "Which one's your favorite?"

"Um…" Becca squinted at the boxes. "Well, my five-year-old self would be extremely disappointed in me if I didn't say Candyland."

"Then Candyland it is." Steve slipped out that box and indicated the 1949. "It's even in the right decade to start."

"I know. You only missed this by four years." Becca took out the game board, which displayed a colorful path winding through various candy-themed areas. "I was really surprised at how old this game is. This is the Eighties version that I played as a kid though, so it's changed a bit."

"I'm sure." Steve skimmed a booklet that explained The Legend of the Lost Candy Castle from the perspective of characters in the game. "So the evil character in this game is licorice?"

"Lord Licorice, and if you'll notice, he's not actually made of licorice." Becca dumped the box over, spilling out all the cards and pieces onto the board. "He just wears it fabulously."

"Uh huh. This says Gloppy is 'more goosome than gruesome,' but I think he looks more suspicious than Lord Licorice."

"Aw, I think he's cute." Becca held up four plastic figures in the shape of gingerbread men. "Do you want to be red, yellow, green, or blue?"

"Blue," Steve decided, and Becca set blue and green figures at the start. Steve eyed the picture of Gloppy skeptically. "He's a blob of molasses with eyes and a tie."

"But he's a cute blob of molasses. Now, pay attention. I didn't lug these games all the way here for us to argue over aesthetics."

Steve set aside the booklet and scanned the board. It looked to Steve like the objective of the game was simply to make it to the final square on the path. "You didn't lug them _all_ the way here."

"If the sass has returned, clearly you've focused so I'll explain the game." Becca ran a hand through her hair, pushing the strands away from her face. "And then you can watch me win."

"Ha." Steve turned his blue game piece so that the figure faced the correct direction. "We'll see."

* * *

Becca won at Candyland, which she couldn't really gloat over because not only was the target audience young children but winning was based purely on luck. They decided to go in order of the year the games were invented, so they moved on to Mouse Trap. To Becca's delight, she won that game as well, after which she flashed Steve a smug look even though the game had also been luck-based. Becca had thought having big hands would be a detriment to playing Operation, but no. Steve had much better hand-eye coordination than she had ever possessed, so he won. They played three rounds of Connect Four. Neither of them managed to get four in a row for the first two rounds, and so when Steve managed to win the third round, they switched games.

Watching Steve play Hungry, Hungry Hippos was absolutely hilarious. He gave the game with its four tiny, colorful hippos the _most_ dubious look, but then got super into it. Once Becca began giggling, she couldn't stop. She laughed until her sides hurt and her lungs burned from lack of air. It got to the point that Becca couldn't even remember what was funny; she was simply overwhelmed with the feeling that something had to be. Eventually, however, the ache in her ribs reminded Becca about the awful day she'd had.

First, she had an appointment with Dr. Barrett, so she couldn't take the additional morning Adderall. Without it, the Oxy made her morose and irritated. Plus, she had a headache and felt queasy, obviously from not being able to counteract the Oxy. Even being told that she could stop wearing her neck brace to bed didn't make Becca feel better. It seemed like Dr. Barrett asked more questions than usual. Becca realized that she couldn't even tell him the level of her nerve pain. She had kept so on top of her painkillers that she didn't know. Nonetheless, she figured the pain couldn't drop off that fast.

Despite the assertion that her pain level remained the same, Dr. Barrett had brought up switching her pain medication again to something less effective, but "more importantly less addicting. We've had to increase your dosage quite a number of times in the last few weeks. Even with your tolerance, this is fairly uncommon. Some of the numbness you've been experiencing has dissipated, so the nerves _are_ healing. Are you certain your pain levels haven't been decreasing? When was the last time you experienced this pain? Have you done anything to put strain on your neck recently or cause a secondary injury?" So annoying. Becca had fed him some bullshit about giving it serious consideration if she didn't feel better in another month. She'd needed the prescription refill. She would get off Oxy when her nerves were completely healed, and he had told her that took a minimum of six months. There were at least two months to go.

Skipping the usual Adderall dose in the morning had thrown her whole balance off after Becca had finally felt like she had the proper dosages figured out again. And now with the newly filled prescription at a higher dosage, she had to reconfigure the amount of tablets anyway. Honestly, needing to take medication could be such a thorn in her side at times.

Derek texted her later in the day to say he couldn't meet tomorrow. Either they met today or not until next week. Her supply of Adderall had grown worryingly low, so Becca agreed to meet in their designated park. He had showed up late – an irritating habit on a day when Becca already felt awful – which made her late to see Steve.

To top it all off, one of the first things Steve asked about was the reason for her lateness and she had gone and snapped at him, proving that her balance continued to be screwy. However, there was no excuse to be made that would allow her to sneak another half tablet of Adderall and honestly, Becca didn't want to think about her medication any more today. For a while, she had managed to forget, but that was the thing about being damaged. Becca could never forget for long.

Her laughter having subsided, they put away Hungy, Hungry Hippos and set up the final game: Jenga. Steve insisted that Becca go first, so she picked a loose block from the middle of the tower. This game had been selected from the joint collection she shared with Ally, so they had played it often enough that Becca knew which blocks to choose whereas Steve gingerly prodded the blocks before picking.

"You gotta pick one," Becca pressed as Steve poked yet another block. She had started to feel tired, and his slow turns weren't helping

"I will."

Becca hummed the entirety of the _Jeopardy _theme, but Steve seemed no closer to choosing a block. "So that was the theme from _Jeopardy _and it means you need to go faaaaasteeeer."

"Not my fault you picked the last good block," Steve muttered, sliding a block out halfway and hastily pushing it back in as the column teetered.

"What can I say? I've got the eye for it." Becca swallowed a yawn. Steve heaved a sigh and yanked a block from the middle. The entire column toppled. "Jenga! I win."

"This game," Steve stressed. He dropped a number of blocks into the box.

"Yes, this game," Becca helped him putting the blocks away. "And the first two and you won three, so we're tied." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve frown. "What's that look for?"

The frown vanished. "What look?"

"I said 'we're tied' and you made a face."

"Well…" Steve closed the lid and set Jenga beside the pile of games. "I did win more than one round of Hungy, Hungry Hippos."

Becca rolled her eyes, irritation sparking. "You're going to argue over Hungry, Hungry Hippos. Are you five?"

"I'm not the one who brought children's games," Steve countered dryly.

Becca inhaled through her nose. Don't be mad. They always teased each other. Everything was fine. Go with it. "And I'm not the one who got super excited about playing with tiny hippos."

"They were cute hippos, unlike your molasses monster."

Becca gasped. "How dare you, sir." She collapsed dramatically onto the blanket. "My poor Sloppy."

"His name was Gloppy."

"Oh, close enough." Becca stared up at the night sky. As she breathed in and out of her nose, the annoyed feeling receded. The city sounds were muffled here, but the effects of the light showed in the faint scattering of stars. "Too bad we're still so close to the city or there would be more stars. Try turning the lantern off." Steve flicked the switch, which had no effect whatsoever. "I don't know why I thought that would help."

"The moon looks brighter," Steve pointed out.

Becca supposed the moon did brighten as her eyes adjusted to the dark. The ground seemed less comfortable though. Becca patted the blanket, and Steve took the hint to lie down beside her. She nudged his arm over so that she could curl up next to him and rest her head on his shoulder. Much better. She was here with Steve under the stars, and everything was going to be fine.

They lay there in silence, looking up at the sky. Becca contemplated the darker patches between the stars. There were whole other worlds out there. Someone could be looking back at them right now.

"I feel like we should be discussing big, cosmic questions," voiced Becca.

"Like what?"

Becca thought, but came to the conclusion that she actually didn't want to discuss larger questions. It sounded too tiring, too depressing. "What do you think would happen if the world started running out of chocolate?"

Steve chuckled. "A very important question, but I don't think we have to be worried."

"Hey, if the Chocolate Riots break out, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't."

For having so much hard muscle, Steve made a surprisingly comfortable pillow. Then again, Becca was feeling increasingly sleepy, so most things would feel like a good pillow. Too much Oxy. Adderall would perk her up, but as she'd already discovered there was no way to sneak it and she was so comfy. Becca closed her eyes and nuzzled closer. Lying under the stars was meant to be romantic. That had been the whole point of coming here, sneaking off to be alone, making out in the moonlight, hot stuff like that. She had to wake up. If only she could think of a way to take her meds without alerting Steve, but her thoughts were drifting…

"Becca?"

"Mmm?" Becca hummed without opening her eyes.

"I think we should get you home." Steve's fingers slipped through her hair. "You know, before you fall asleep."

"I'm not –" Her body chose that exact moment to betray her by yawning. "I'm not falling asleep."

"Uh huh."

"I'm okay."

Becca forced herself to sit up, blinking rapidly. Steve tried to sit up too, but she set a hand on the center on his chest. She would wake up without the Adderall. Becca kissed Steve as his hands slid over her hips, resting above her waist. When she traced his bottom lip with her tongue, his mouth opened for her. She would wake up. Becca felt another yawn building and her jaw went tense. Obviously Steve felt it too because he turned his head to the side to break the kiss. Shit.

"It's late," Steve noted, rubbing a hand gently along her side. He checked his watch. "Almost 10:30."

"Really?" Becca frowned. She should get home. Usually she went to bed around 11:00, so she really shouldn't skip that dose. "I suppose I am a bit tired from winning so much."

Steve scoffed. "We tied."

"Oh, so now you agree we tied. I see how this works." Becca playfully poked his chest. "All it takes is a few kisses and suddenly you see things my way."

"They are very persuasive."

Becca grinned and winked. "That's my superpower, kissing men into submission."

"Huh." Steve smiled, eyes glinting bright blue in the moonlight. "Guess I'm gonna need to start arguing more."

"Very smooth." Becca gave him another kiss. "But sadly you made the mistake of convincing me to go home first."

They packed up the games and blanket, and Becca let Steve heft the bag over his shoulder without protesting. She picked up the lantern, which would be needed to walk through the trees. Once on the street, the lantern went into the bag, and Becca tucked her hands into her pockets, rolling the emergency bottle of meds beneath her fingers. She almost pulled it out on the subway platform. A group of fairly drunk college kids recognized Steve, and Becca backed up a slight ways since they didn't seem to notice her and she and Steve were trying to keep their relationship under wraps. She had the bottle half out of her pocket, but there were too many people around. She could wait fifteen minutes in order to get to home.

"I think the best part of all that," said Becca as they left the subway station near her apartment, "was the little, sweet-looking old lady who told them to 'leave you the fuck alone.' Gotta love New Yorkers. That was priceless."

"I'm just glad they went away after that," Steve sighed. "I was hoping they would take the hint when we were texting." He gave her a sideways looks. "Those texts were not helpful, by the way."

"What do you mean they weren't helpful?" Becca sniffed, although he had a point since the kids hadn't taken the hint. "I was trying to give you an excuse to get those kids away."

"All you did was make it hard not to laugh."

Becca shrugged, but she was secretly pleased. "All I said was that if a lion and a hedgehog mated, that guy's hair was exactly what a hedgelion would look like." Steve shook his head, grinning. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"I can't."

"Exactly."

They turned a corner and stopped. Part ways down the street a crowd had congregated and a lot people in that crowed held cameras.

"Something's going on down there," Steve stated, squinting at the paparazzi.

"You don't say."

Becca eyed a limo that drove around the corner they were standing on and headed towards the crowd. Some celebrity must be having a party or going out somewhere. There were a lot of nice penthouses in this neighborhood, so this happened on occasion. Becca seriously just wanted to get home and was tempted to tell Steve that she could walk from here by herself. She might have said so, if Steve hadn't spoken up first.

"Let's go another block and cut up that way."

Steve put a hand on her back, a gesture which felt protective, and steered her across the street. Becca was surprised he hadn't decided to move farther away from her instead, but she kind of liked this better. Besides, the paparazzi obviously had their attentions elsewhere, so she thought being spotted seemed unlikely, especially at night.

"Jeez, don't look so worried," said Becca as they crossed out of sight of the busy street. "The dogs are all sniffing around another poor soul. We could probably make out in the middle of the sidewalk right now, and they wouldn't know to come running." Steve smiled slightly, so Becca couldn't resist darting up to press a kiss against his jaw to prove her point.

However, three steps later, his hand dropped. Becca glanced at him. Steve stared off to a point up and to their left as they walked, frowning uncertainly. "Let's take this street."

"Uh, okay." Walking down this street took less time than a whole block, but Becca thought Steve's reasoning had been different. He looked like he had seen something. Steve glanced back over his shoulder. Definitely had seen something. "A reporter?"

"I… I don't know for sure."

"Oh." Becca's nose wrinkled. She had hoped they would be able to avoid reporters for longer, but she supposed the press was bound to find out eventually. Actually, she didn't much care one way or the other at the moment. "I mean, when they find out, they find out. I don't _love_ the idea of publicity, but it's not like I'm ashamed to be dating you."

Steve shifted as though to touch her, but changed his mind. "I never thought you were. And I'm not ashamed of you either."

"Well, obviously." Becca jokingly flipped her hair over her shoulder and shot him a wink, though it was both reassuring and worrying to hear him say that. Reassuring to know he had no second thoughts, but worrying because it made her wonder if he would feel the same about the real her, the one who wasn't quite so perky as the medication made her to be. "I don't even know if they could even publish a picture of us anyway. I think it'd be too much hot to handle. Mostly because of me, of course."

"Of course."

"Yup, just a beauty queen and her totally bangin' boyfriend." Becca yawned, "So much attractive."

"Bangin'," Steve echoed. His forehead wrinkled. "That's… interesting."

Becca laughed. "It means, like, really hot."

"It sounds different, but I'll take it." Steve shrugged. "No one's ever called me bangin' before."

"Tch. To your face." Becca was sure people had called him every synonym for attractive under the sun, but she was lucky enough to have snared him first. "Slang is so weird though. Lay old-timey words on me. I know some, but I'm curious what you think is important."

They explained various slang words and phrases to each other for the remainder of the walk. Becca retrieved her bag outside the door to her apartment and gave Steve a goodbye kiss. Ally was watching TV, but Becca swept past her on the pretense of needing to use the bathroom. She dropped the bag in her bedroom and took her Oxy dose for the night before going into the living room for a brief post-date recap. However, Becca felt exhausted and, knowing the additional Oxy would soon kick in, made her excuses to go to bed.

* * *

When Becca awoke at 7:03 in the morning, she forced herself to roll over and take a dose of Adderall. She fell asleep for nearly another hour, but woke up feeling fabulous. It had been so nice to finally sleep without her neck brace. Her neck didn't feel gross and sweaty for once. Becca hopped out of bed and stretched. She noticed that the message light on her phone was blinking. After unplugging the phone, she checked the messages. The display informed her that she had twelve messages, two missed calls, and two voicemails. Holy shit. What was going on? Before she could open any of the messages the number went up to thirteen. Becca tapped on the most recent message, which was from her friend Jackie.

"_This might sound crazy but r u dating Captain America?"_

As Becca stared at the message, she remembered Steve checking over his shoulder for a reporter. Fuck, it looked like there had been a reporter after all. She opened the previous message from another friend.

"_I'm watching Good Morning America and they showed a photo of Captain America and a woman who could be your twin!" _

_Good Morning America_? Fabulous, so the entire nation knew. Becca sighed and turned on her laptop. Well, they obviously didn't have her name, so that was something. Becca skimmed through the remaining messages, restlessly bouncing one leg. How much did a photo really matter though? Who remembered what a famous person's girlfriend looked like? She couldn't think of a single celebrity whose non-famous partner she'd recognize.

Becca googled "Captain America" and checked the latest news. There it was. Becca clicked on a news article from _Good Morning America_ and then clicked again to enlarge the picture. Why? Why had she risked kissing Steve at all? Why had a reporter across the street decided to take a picture at that exact moment, with Steve smiling, his arm behind her back, and her lips pressed to his jawline? She had been so sure none of the reporters would be looking for anyone but whoever was in the limo. What a stupid, stupid mistake. And they had been so careful up until that point. Becca rubbed her eyes in irritation.

"Uuuuuuuugh." At least the picture wasn't a head-on shot of her. She could still play this off. Becca clicked the photo to downsize it. Instead of downsizing, the photo switched. "Of fucking course."

There were there more photos. The first one was the most attention getting, but the people at _Good Morning America_ had decided to post addition photos: one with them staring ahead with serious expressions, the next with herself talking and the beginnings of a smile from Steve, and a final one in which they were both smiling. Now these would definitely make her recognizable to people who knew her. Stupid reporters and their stupid, fancy cameras. Becca skimmed the article and watched the clip from this morning's broadcast. Apart from the photos, the rest was sheer speculation. If only the photo evidence hadn't been quite so good.

The missed calls were from Steve and her parents. Becca didn't bother listening to the voicemails. She returned Steve's call.

"_Morning, Becca." _Steve voice sounded hesitant, like he was nervous to hear her reaction.

"Hi. So I saw the pictures and I watched the news clip. It's…" Becca leapt out of her chair, unable to sit still any longer, and paced around her room. "It's so…. Ugh. I'm sorry. This is on me. I shouldn't have kissed you."

"_It's on me as much as you. I'm the one with my arm around you."_

"Yeah, but if that's all it was then I could have been some woman you were consoling on her way home after rescuing her from – I don't even know, but the point is, this is more my fault than yours."

Steve sighed. _"The point is that it happened, but it's only happened once. Maybe if they don't get any more pictures, they'll forget."_

"Maybe." Becca huffed. She kind of doubted it though. Captain America was really big news, right in line behind Norse gods and the invasion.

"_They don't know your name."_

"Yet. But people I know will recognize me. I don't think any of my friends or family would talk to a reporter, but someone else might."

"_True, but we'll have to hope for the best. If we're real careful, the press might not have a chance to know. Not if I can help it."_

"I guess." Becca kicked the foot of her bed. Which meant that going out places was going to be even more work and sneaking around.

"_Maybe if we don't see each other for a while. Or we could take my bike when we meet and go out of town, places where no one will be taking pictures. I could park a few streets over. If I had a hat, maybe some glasses…" _

Becca clicked her tongue irritably. This was ridiculous. She wasn't she going to let the press control her life and she especially wasn't going to become an inconvenience to Steve.

"Fuck it."

"… _and wear – What?" _

"Fuck it. So what if they get a few pictures? It's not like they can follow us inside everywhere we go. You know what?" Becca shrugged. "I don't care if they know we're dating."

"_You… don't?" _

"No." Becca bounced up and down on her heels. She didn't care. Screw the press. Screw them. She felt positively giddy with that decided. As a matter of fact, she felt fantastic. "I don't care what they do, and I don't care what they say. I'm not going to look at anything they print or post because it doesn't even matter."

"_Uh…" _Steve fell quiet for a couple of seconds. _"Well, yeah. It shouldn't matter, but are you sure? It's not always easy dealing with the press." _

"Yes. I mean, obviously strolling through Times Square would be a bad idea." Becca flopped onto her bed. "And maybe we still need to be careful around our apartments, but why shouldn't we be able to walk down the street together?"

"_I – Yeah, if that's what you want." _

"It is." Beca rolled over onto her stomach. She wanted to be able to have a normal relationship with Steve. That was, as normal as it could be. Didn't they deserve that? "As long as it's also what you want. You're the one who's going to have to deal with the most attention."

"_Of course that's what I want." _

"Good, then it's decided."

"_This does mean that they're going to find out your name at least."_

"Oh, whatever. Here, I'll even help them." Becca held the phone away from her face and shouted, "Becca Stroud is dating Steve Rogers! Do you hear that everyone?! I'm dating Captain America!" When Becca brought the phone back to her ear, she could hear Steve laughing. "There we go. If they don't have my name by sundown, I'll do more yelling. I'm thinking 'My boyfriend can recite the Constitution backwards' should be a clear enough hint."

"_Uh huh. And don't forget to mention that I can name all fifty states and their capitals in less than a minute." _

"I won't." In the pause following her words, Becca heard a sound like a drill on Steve's end. "Are you on clean up duty already? I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"_No, it's all right. They –" _

"No, no. I won't keep you. I should go anyway." Becca sighed. "I gotta apologize to anyone I woke up so no one reports me. I don't think Ally would be too happy if I got us a warning."

"_Probably not. I'll talk to you later, then. You have a good day."_

"You too. Bye."

"_Bye." _

Becca ended the call. There. No more evasive answers about who she was dating or if she was dating. And the press wasn't as bad here as it was in places like L.A, or at least that's what she'd heard. Becca thought she could put up with the paparazzi once and a while. The important thing was that Steve wanted to make this work as much as she did. Becca smiled. She felt great.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Lots of underlying set up for the next arch. Hold on to your safety harnesses because I owe you a fall, readers. I.O.U.**

**Becca did quote _Pirates of the Caribbean_ towards the beginning.**

** I'm very grateful for the continuing support. See you next week! **


	18. Lights, Camera, Stop

Becca surveyed Steve's canvas and frowned. "You said you weren't good at painting."

Steve shrugged. "I'm not _that_ good at painting. If I had tried to paint this on my own, it would have been a mess."

"I doubt it," Becca mumbled.

In truth, her own reproduction of _Starry Night_ wasn't half bad thanks to the direction Helen, their paint bar instructor, but Steve had definitely done better. Oh well, he _had_ gone to art school, so she supposed this outcome was inevitable. Besides, the painting class had been fun, and that had been the whole point anyway.

"Your moon looks closer to the original," Steve pointed out.

"That's because I can't make a perfect circle to save my life and for once it's paid off." Becca tilted her head, further comparing their paintings. "Your town is pretty flawless. Van Gogh himself couldn't tell the difference between that town and his."

"Only 'cause the town isn't in his usual style." Steve swept a hand over the top half of his painting, a careful inch from touching the canvas. "As for the rest, I was never much good with Post-Impressionism"

"Hmm." Becca wasn't going to attempt a specific artistic comment on that statement since her knowledge on the subject was minimal at best. "Well, I think it's fair to say that neither of have to be ashamed to hang these up."

"I agree."

The paint seemed to have lost the majority of its wet sheen under the special drying lights. Helen would probably tell them that they could leave soon. Everyone had been hanging around and drinking while they waited for their paintings to be dry enough to move. Becca nearly touched a corner to test the paint, but she didn't want a tiny mark. Even if no one noticed it, she'd know every time she looked at the painting.

"Excuse me." Becca glanced up even though the man had spoken to Steve. So he had decided to come over. She had noticed him glancing at them while his partner seemed to be heatedly whispering in the man's ear, probably telling him to leave Steve alone. The partner hovered behind the man's shoulder now, eyes wide and apologetic. "Hi. I'm Brandon. Not to bother you, but I was wondering if you'd mind being in a picture?"

Since Steve and Becca had decided not to hide their relationship, this happened on occasion. The first time, it had been a woman asking for an autograph. Becca had been surprised when Steve looked to her for permission. It was his decision to make, not hers. It wasn't like they were asking for her autograph. She had communicated as best as she could without being direct that she didn't care one way or another. Becca had yet to see him turn anyone down, although they had made a quick exit after a picture with an overly-enthusiastic fan. Thankfully, they hadn't been mobbed or anything, probably because they continued to avoid super touristy places.

In the case of pictures, Becca volunteered to take them so that she didn't have to awkwardly stand there or watch someone struggling to get a decent shot. All together, she found most of the people who came up to them to be fairly nice, so she didn't really mind helping them with pictures. After taking one such photo, she found out from a grateful fan that the media had named her "Miss America." She and Steve had a good laugh over that while Becca did her best pageant queen impression. After a man had asked for her autograph as well however, she practiced writing the new name out until she came up with a signature she liked. It had been fun, although she didn't expect to need the signature all that often, which was totally fine by her. Becca was content to play photographer.

"Not at all." Steve smiled, a small but pleasant smile that Becca had seen him wear only when stopped by a fan.

"Thank you." Brandon held out a phone to his partner. "I'm such a huge fan. What you did for New York and during World War II, really great stuff." Steve nodded as Brandon moved to stand next to him.

"Would you like to be in the photo, too?" Becca asked the partner.

"Yeah, he would," Brandon asserted. "Come on, Colin. It's not every day you get to meet Captain America."

Colin sighed. As he pressed the phone into Becca's hand, he muttered, "I'm really sorry about this. I'm sure you wanted a quiet date."

"It's okay. We don't mind," Becca whispered, so he wouldn't feel guilty. Colin joined Steve and Brandon, and she adjusted the image to get all three men in frame. "Okay, three, two, one." Becca took two pictures and lowered the phone. "There you go."

Brandon and Colin both thanked them and moved off. Becca could tell by the lowered volume of voices that more people were now seriously considering asking for a photo, too. However, Helen announced that the paint had set and passed around bags to make the paintings easier to carry. While the room began to clear, Helen came over to where Becca was extra carefully slipping her painting into the bag Steve held open for her.

"Just so you're aware there are reporters waiting outside. A lot of them," Helen quietly stated. "If you want, my manager said you can wait in the employee's break room for a while. Maybe some of them will go away…" She hesitated uncomfortably. "… but I did hear him say they'd already be out there for an hour."

"All right. I appreciate you letting us know," said Steve. Becca followed Helen's retreating back, her stomach knotting. "What do you think?"

Becca chewed the inside of her lip. "Um…"

When it came to dealing with the media, Becca knew they'd be lucky so far by all accounts. She had seen one paparazzo while they were walking downtown. Two of them had been lurking outside of the arcade for adults where she and Steve had gone for their one-month anniversary. Fortunately those reporters were shaken off in the subway, so no one was hovering around nice restaurant where Steve brought her for dinner afterwards. Becca suspected there were more she hadn't seen, but since she was actively avoiding any news about her relationship with Steve, she had no idea how many or where they had been. And as the saying went: out of sight, out of mind. Their entire friendship had happened before everyone knew Steve had returned, so it was easy to go back to acting normal around each other.

The only real change for Becca was that she spent more time than usual in choosing her outfits and doing her hair before she left her apartment. It didn't _really_ matter what the media had to say, but she couldn't let people think that Captain America had chosen to date a slob. All it took was a bit more effort. She had picked up running and yoga again. While her recent exercising had helped her lose weight, Becca suspected that the weight loss had more to do with the Adderall minimizing her appetite. Lately, she totally forgot to eat until Ally came home for dinner. Also, the Oxy was helping her get lots of sleep, so she never had bags under her eyes like she'd sometimes gotten when she woke up in pain needing another dose. All things considered, Becca thought she was looking pretty fabulous. Of course, she continued to worry a little before she stepped outside of her apartment. She might feel fabulous, but there was fabulous and then there was Steve's level of gorgeous.

Really, Becca knew that there was no point in waiting for the paparazzi to leave. Reporters were stubborn. If they'd waited for an hour, they'd wait an hour more. Might as well go and get it over with. She wasn't going to make Steve hang around forever when he already knew how to deal with the press. She had known getting into this relationship meant run-ins with the paparazzi. The thought of being surrounded by all those people judging her appearance and taking pictures might make her anxious, but she would have Steve next to her the whole time.

"I think we should just go," Becca decided. "But I have to hit the ladies' room first."

Steve took the painting bag from her outstretched hand. "I'll get our jackets."

In the restroom, Becca examined her appearance. She touched up her makeup, making certain that her eyeliner was flawless and dabbing on additional lip gloss. She then fixed a few fly away hairs and redid part of her bun, checking with a compact mirror to be sure it looked perfect. She retreated into a stall where she used the same mirror to practice her smile, showing enough teeth for her smile to appear genuine but not enough that her crooked incisor would be visible. Good. She took out her bottle of medication and swallowed a half tablet of Adderall and Oxy each, just to be sure that she felt fine. Reassured, she left the stall and checked her appearance one final time. She pulled the wrinkles from her skirt and tried to scrub more paint off her hands while taking, deep calming breaths. It would all be over in a matter of minutes.

Becca left the restroom to find Steve waiting right outside. His gaze swept her, and she knew he wouldn't miss the alterations.

"Are you sure about going out there?" Steve asked, holding out her jacket so that Becca could slip her arms into the sleeves. "I can leave by myself, and –"

"No," Becca interrupted, forcing firm resolve into her voice. "I want to do this. Besides, I've faced down aliens and Herman, my neighbor's angry dog. He's half Irish setter, half demon. I'm sure the paparazzi will be a walk in the park compared to that little devil."

"I'm sure," Steve agreed. He gently touched her back. "You look beautiful."

"I do my best." Becca felt better already. When Steve leaned down though, she shifted aside before he could plant a kiss on top of her head or anywhere else that might mess with her appearance. "Uh uh. Sorry, but until the cameras are gone, I need everything to stay in place."

"All right." Steve held out his elbow towards her with purpose.

Becca raised an eyebrow. Was she supposed to take his arm? The way he was holding it was sort of weird. Steve began to lower his arm, looking embarrassed, when Becca suddenly understood. He had copied the move from _Young Frankenstein_, the first movie they'd watched together. Dr. Frankenstein's fiancé had complained repeatedly about him almost ruining her appearance with affectionate gestures until all they could do was touch elbows. God, that was one of her favorite movies! She should have got the reference immediately. Becca tapped her elbow to his.

"You made a semi-modern movie reference!" Becca exclaimed, weirdly proud of him.

"I am a semi-modern man." Steve grinned. "But I couldn't have done it without you."

"That will be my legacy." Becca drew herself up, holding her nose imperiously up in the air. "I shall go down in history as the woman who enabled Captain America to reference modern film culture. I think that will merit _at least_ a footnote in one of your biographies."

"Maybe even two footnotes."

Becca put a hand to her heart. "Two footnotes. My parents will weep from pride." She reached out for her painting. "So gimme my bag and let's go get that extra footnote."

Steve shifted the bags out of her reach. "I got it."

"I can carry it. It's just a painting."

"I know, but then the press might think that I didn't offer to carry my best girl's bag for her."

Becca narrowed her eyes. Steve had a point, but the glint in his eyes was far too perceptive. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing." She poked his chest. "But I suppose as far as flaws go, being a gentleman is among the more acceptable."

"Some people might even see it as a good thing," Steve noted as they walked towards the lobby.

"Oh Steve, that's all people see when they look at you. That's why you need me to point out the flaws." Becca ticked his pretend flaws off on her fingers. "Being a gentleman. Saying you can't paint when you can."

"I can't."

"_Insisting_ you can't paint when you can. Getting the highest score on Temple Run, so now I can't beat the high score ever unless I delete the app and start all over."

Steve laughed. "You're the one who insisted I learn how to play."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think you'd be that good that fast, which admittedly I should've." Becca held up her hands. "Fine, that one's on me."

"One whole flaw. How will you live with yourself?"

"I'll muddle –" They reached the end of the hallway, and Becca saw the amount of reporters through the lobby windows. There were so many. She had been hoping that "a lot" meant around ten. All the tension that had eased away while talking to Steve slammed back into her chest. "– through…. somehow…" Steve threaded their fingers together, and Becca clutched his hand without taking her eyes off of the windows.

"You don't have to do this, Becca," Steve insisted, his grip tightening in response to hers.

"Yes, I do. You know I do." Becca attempted to swallow, but her throat felt clogged. "It was, what, a ten minute walk to the subway? Maybe less?"

"Right," confirmed Steve, not sounding the least bit convincing. He grabbed the door handle. "Ready?"

Hell no, she wasn't ready, but Becca nodded. "Ready."

It seemed like a hundred flashes of light went off, making bright spots appear in her vision. Becca could deal with a few cameras, but this was disorienting. The sound filled her ears next, voices telling her to look in different directions, asking her questions. The clicking of cameras overlapped one another in a sound which always reminded Becca strangely of constant click-click of a roller coaster rising to the top of a steep drop. It was warm, too, with all the reporters and their lights. Through the noise, the word "smile" popped out at her. Was she smiling? She'd worked so hard to perfect it. Becca conjured up a smile, but was unsure if her lips had formed the right one. Her skin tingled strangely, and she felt dizzy.

When Steve led her forward, Becca almost tripped. Wouldn't that have been a headline? "Captain America's Girlfriend Is A Major Klutz." She concentrated on the sidewalk, averting her eyes from the cameras because she thought she might pass out if their flashes kept blinding her. Should she answer any of the questions? Steve wasn't. He hardly said anything except "excuse me." It felt odd to have so many questions shouted at her and not answer a single one. Becca began picking out questions she could hear fully and answering them in her head, hoping that would restore some order to this chaos of light and sound.

"_What's your name, sweetheart?"_ Becca Stroud.

"_How did you two meet?"_ Sitting on a park bench. I was nosy, and we started talking.

"_When did you meet?"_ About three months ago, but we had our one-month anniversary on Tuesday.

"_Some people are speculating that Captain America saved your life during the invasion. Can you confirm that?"_ Kind of, but not in the way you might think.

"_What's it like to be dating Captain America?"_ Amazing. I could do without this though.

Answering questions wasn't helping. It was still too loud, too bright. Becca kept unconsciously holding her breath like she was swimming through deep water. This had to be almost over. How could they not have reached the subway yet? It seemed they had been submerged in this barrage of activity for the longest time. Becca looked up, trying to determine where they were. More spots danced across her vision.

Suddenly, Becca saw bright headlights. The questions became the voices of EMTs, calling to each other, telling her to stay calm. She couldn't move. Oh god, she couldn't move. Not her neck, not her arms. What was happening? Something clasped around her shoulders. Warm breath heated her ear. They had to get her out, but it would hurt. She didn't want it to hurt.

Memories of her accident blurred into the crowd of reporters. Steve was talking into her ear, one arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. They weren't walking anymore. They were supposed to be walking.

"I'm fine," mumbled Becca without focusing on Steve's words. Actually, she felt like she was about to throw up or cry or both.

Not in front of the cameras. Becca forced her legs to carry her forward. Head down, smile, and walk. She repeated that to herself like a mantra, something she could hold onto for balance. Her hand twitched by her side, instinctively reaching her purse and the medication bottle inside. Obviously she hadn't taken enough, but she couldn't take anything at the moment. Becca shoved the hand in her jacket pocket instead where her fingers curled into a shaking fist.

Seconds later, Steve guided her to her right and a door opened. The flashes stopped and so did the voices, though Becca's ears buzzed from the clamor. It was over. Becca's relief overwhelmed her, spreading out through her limbs so that all she wanted to do was collapse to the ground. She dragged herself up the four steps that appeared in her vision and sat on the bench in front of her. Oh man, that had been so much worse than she thought it would be. Becca blew out a long breath. Hopefully it would get easier now that she knew what to expect. At least they were here.

Wait, where were they? She had thought they were going to the subway. Becca looked around. Judging from the décor, the smell of food, and the trays in the hands of a family who walked past, Steve had directed them into a café. Their booth was situated near a corner, one of two that were not only blocked from the front windows by a partial wall separating this area of the café, but also were hidden behind a thick support column. Her gaze landed on a sign designating the restrooms. Oxy would get rid of the shakes, calm her down.

"Becca?" Concern had etched lines into Steve's brow. One of his hands rested on the table, the adjoining arm carrying visible tension as though he could hardly contain himself from reaching for her.

"I'm okay. I just, uh…" Becca slipped off the bench and stood. "I'll be right back."

* * *

Steve stared after Becca until she disappeared into the restrooms. He felt on edge, ready to spring from this bench, grab Becca and run, give the press hell for harassing her, to _do_ something. His body held a tension that he couldn't shake, nearly propelling him out of the bench like a bomb waited beneath the plastic. Becca had been trembling, dazed. For a moment, she had even appeared afraid. When he thought of that frightened look in her eyes, Steve seethed with fury that the people responsible were outside waiting to pounce again. He would stay where he was however. He needed to wait for Becca to return, and if he did get up, someone could take the table. He had chosen this spot because, apart from being vacant and hidden from the windows, he could see any reporter that tried to sneak up here. And if they did, so help him God…

Grinding his teeth, Steve reminded himself that they were just doing their job. He might not like it, could think that the press was too pushy and intrusive, but they had to make a living. They were partially to blame for what had happened, but if he acted on this much anger, he'd do something regrettable. Besides, as Steve had lead Becca to the back, he'd overheard a manager telling one reporter or several that they couldn't come in. Steve curled his hands into fists and flexed them, attempting to release the tension.

This was his fault, too. The reporters had been there because of him. They wanted to get to Becca because she was dating Captain America. If she continued dating him, this would continue to happen, and it was obvious that Becca couldn't handle the press. His anger receded. He wasn't about to let this happen again, and unless they made a change, getting swarmed by reporters was an inevitability. Steve saw two options. Either they kept their relationship completely out of the public eye or they ended it.

Steve pondered which option would be best for Becca. They could be a lot more careful. They could go out of town, visit places in the suburbs or further out where chances were slim that reporters would track them. Becca was far less likely to be recognized on her own. She could come to his apartment, watch movies. She did enjoy movies a whole lot. But the thought of her stealing into his apartment made their relationship feel so wrong, like she was some call girl he didn't want the world to know about.

On the other hand, he could break up with her. She would be upset for a while, but she'd move on. Steve had no trouble believing that Becca could find another man to make her happy. The press would forget her as soon as they realized that she wasn't dating him anymore. It was possible they could still be friends. Becca had told him they could be if this relationship didn't work. Of course, if he ended their relationship, she might not feel the same anymore.

Becca reappeared, her purse swinging from one hand. As he watched her walk towards him, Steve wondered if he would be able to break up with her if it came to that. He certainly didn't want to, but his reasons were mostly selfish. He liked her a lot. As a matter of fact, Steve thought that he might love her.

"Hey." Becca sat down across from him. Steve examined her and found with relief that she looked much better. Color had returned to her cheeks, and when she took his hand, he didn't feel any trembling. "So that didn't go as well as I'd hoped."

"No." Steve tried to imagine not holding her hand anymore. He didn't like the idea at all. "I know it can be real overwhelming sometimes."

"Yeah, just a bit." Becca smiled. Steve put that smile right at the top of the list of things he'd miss most if he never got to see her again. "It's okay. Now I know what to expect and how to deal with it, so next time I won't freeze up."

"No. There's not going to be a next time." Steve had suspected Becca would try to wave this off like it was nothing, but he wouldn't drag her through another crowd of reporters if there was a chance she'd have the same reaction.

"No?" Becca laughed. "Tch. Come on. I'm aware they're not gonna stop just because they finally got a decent picture of us together."

"I know, but I'm not putting you through that again."

Becca raised an eyebrow. "Ever? That'll be hard to pull off, don't you think?"

"Yes," Steve admitted. He shifted forward on his bench. "But we'll try. We'll go out of the city every single time if that's what it takes."

"Don't be ridiculous," Becca scoffed. "I'm fine. I wasn't prepared. Now I am. We're not turning this relationship into some huge inconvenience for the both of us."

"We'll do what it takes." Steve squeezed her hand. He had to make her understand. "It wasn't as if you got nervous. You looked scared, and I couldn't do anything. I don't think you could even hear me."

Becca let out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, so I freaked out a little bit. It won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't happen again. Either we avoid the press entirely or…"

"Or what?"

Steve couldn't say the words, but he knew Becca understood because, when he hesitated, her eyes got very wide. She looked hurt, and then Steve wanted to take the "or" back and tell her that he didn't mean it. However, Steve kept his mouth shut and swallowed that instinct. He decided that he did mean it. He would do whatever was necessary to make sure that she stayed safe. Steve allowed her time to think over the ultimatum, waiting in agonized silence while she chewed the corner of her bottom lip and stared at the table.

"I'm going to tell you something." Becca met his gaze. "I really don't like talking about my accident, but I think you need to hear this."

Steve was surprised. Becca had mentioned the car accident only once in the entire time he'd known her and only because the information had been necessary. She had never shared any details, and Steve hadn't asked because he had gotten the impression that it wasn't something she wanted brought up. He glanced around first to make sure no one appeared to be eavesdropping because he felt certain this would require his full attention.

"All right."

"About a month before I met you, I was driving home from my parent's house," Becca started, her tone even and impersonal as though she were telling a story she'd overheard rather than experienced. "I'd borrowed my friend's little, old car for the trip. It was really late at night, dark, raining, not the kind of weather you want to drive in. My parents wanted me to stay, but I had to return the car so my friend could get to work in the morning. I was driving faster than I should've been but," she shrugged, "there weren't a lot of cars on the road and I wanted to get home. When the accident happened, I was driving the right hand lane because I needed to take an exit soon.

"The man who hit me was driving a forest green pickup truck. I read in the report that he'd forgotten his glasses at work, which he should have been wearing to drive. He got on the exit ramp instead of the entrance ramp and floored it coming round the corner." Becca's voice started to lose its disconnect, emotions she visibly struggled to suppress seeping into her words "He hit me head on, walked away with a sprained wrist. I had two fractured vertebrae, sustained spinal nerve damage, dislocated both shoulders, sprained both my wrists, and got a lot of scrapes and bruises. But then, his car was bigger and all his airbags worked properly."

Becca sucked in an unsteady breath. "I passed out on impact. When I woke up, I saw the rain coming in through the shattered windshield and thought, 'Of course it's raining.' You know, 'cause that's the saying. 'It could be worse. It could be raining.' Well, technically it could've been worse, but it _was_ raining." The corner of her mouth quirked up but quickly dropped. "But then the pain hit me and it was… just so fucking bad. And honestly, for a while there…" Steve saw tears welling up in her eyes, and he gripped her hand tighter. Becca sniffed and in a shaky voice confessed, "For a while, I really wished that I had d-died instead."

Steve had thought seeing her guilt after killing the Chitarui was hard, but hearing Becca say that she had wanted to die was worse. Her eyes held so much pain and shame, and when her voice broke, he felt like a piece of shrapnel had torn right through him. Steve knew from experience that it was impossible sometimes not to think of Bucky and the moment he had wished he'd died instead, so he knew that Becca must go through times when she hurt a hell of a lot. Their reasons, their guilt might be different, but she would still hurt. He didn't want her to be in pain like this.

Becca blinked and tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them fiercely away. "I hate that I can feel that way. I don't like giving up. I have never, ever been someone who gives up, not on anything. But I wanted to give up in that car and then… The nerves that were damaged, the doctor told me it would take at least six months for them to heal. He said I would be in a lot of pain that whole time unless they put me on painkillers. So of course I took the painkillers, and they did stop the pain, but they made me feel the same way. They made me feel so… awful, angry, sad, like I should give up all over again." She shook her head. "But I wouldn't. I found a way to deal with it."

This was news to Steve. From what little Becca had told him and the bits of other evidence, Steve had guessed, incorrectly it seemed, that her damaged nerves only acted up due to strenuous physical activity. However, chronic pain explained why Becca had been so anxious and secretive about her condition. She didn't want anyone worrying about her all the time. Steve wouldn't treat her different, but he marked this as a sign of how much he meant to her that Becca had entrusted him with this information. He was touched, but he also wished there was something he could do to help her.

Becca leaned closer, determination set in her features. "So the point I'm trying to make is this: being surrounded by the paparazzi, for a second it reminded me of the accident. They were both stressful situations I was unprepared for, but I figured out a way to live with what happened because of my accident and can live with the media, too. I'm not giving up. So don't you give up on me."

"I'm not," Steve promised immediately.

"Really? Because it kinda seems like you are." Becca's frown deepened. "One little thing goes wrong and suddenly you're suggesting this isn't going to work out."

Steve wouldn't let her dismiss how she had frozen up as if it were nothing, even though he thought he understood better why that had happened. It had been scary to see how rapidly Becca had shut off from him, the smile on her lips worrisome in how expressionless it had looked.

"It wasn't 'one little thing.' It was like… like you switched off or something."

"Fine. I switched off," Becca admitted, nose wrinkling in disgruntlement. Her hand twitched in his, and Steve reluctantly let go. "Is that what you want to hear me say? I know I didn't react well. I was reminded of my accident, and my brain went into panic mode. But this was one time. It's not a reason to give up."

Satisfied that Becca saw to an extent what the problem had been, Steve assured her, "I'm not going to give up on you. I didn't know how bad your accident had been, and I didn't think a bunch of reporters would remind you of it. I'm sorry about what happened to you, but you can't expect me to see you overwhelmed and not do something about it."

"I know," Becca sighed and her defensive posture relaxed. "But youknow I don't like being the damsel in distress. I'm not going to be carted off to my tower at the first sign of danger. _However, _it's unfair of me to expect a white knight not to be a little protective sometimes." She shrugged a shoulder. "So I'm thinking compromise."

"Is that compromise also in metaphor? 'Cause if so, I've got an idea for the dragon."

The corner of Becca's mouth lifted. "Listen, I'm gonna be that dragon in a second unless you control the sass."

Steve would have hushed up if the comment hadn't finally made Becca smile again. "Does that mean the knight and the dragon get the happily ever after? It would be more interesting, but I have to ask you to remember that being fireproof is not one of my superpowers."

Becca smacked his hand. "Do you want to hear this compromise or not? Because I'm about to sprout wings and fangs over here."

"All right." Steve reigned in the desire to make another remark and studied her seriously. "What is it?"

"We continue same as before. I'm sure the paparazzi will find us at some point. If I freak out again, then we go out of our way to be careful."

Steve considered, but the compromise seemed reasonable. The press could be a lot to handle. He had to give Becca a chance to try now that she knew what she was in for. Moreover, he was simply relieved to find a compromise because that meant they wouldn't have to break up.

"Sound fair." Steve extended his hand across the table.

Becca reached out, hesitating above his palm. "But if I'm a little nervous next time, that doesn't count. It'll take some getting used to."

Steve nodded. "I understand."

"Okay, good." Becca slipped her hand into his. "You know, I never dreamed I'd be almost famous. I never even wanted to be famous. Rich maybe, but not famous."

"I just wanted to do my part to help end the war." Steve wasn't sure how much he had helped in the long run, since the war had ended without his being there. Still, every life he had been able to save counted for something, and at least Hydra had been taken down. "I didn't want to be famous either."

"Well, I know you helped a lot during the war. As for the not being famous part, I'll give you this." Becca grinned. "I don't think you could have failed any more spectacularly."

"Probably not." Steve traced his thumb across the back of her hand, gently rubbing the smooth skin, and Becca gave him a soft look. "And look at us now."

"Yeah, just an average couple hiding out from the fame they never wanted. Oh wait." Becca pursed her lips ponderously. "Better make that one not-at-all average hero and his relatively-average-but-totally-awesome girlfriend hiding out from the fame they never wanted."

"Don't sell yourself short there," Steve chuckled.

"You're right. His badass, bombshell, hilarious, completely amazing girlfriend." Becca tipped her head and struck what she had referred to as her "pageant queen" pose. "She's beauty. She's grace. She's Miss United States. She is… Miss America."

"Much better. I think you're really starting to get this 'Miss America' thing down."

"Yeah. Actually, we should fight crime together. You give your speech on constitutional rights, I'll do mine on world peace, and between the two of us we should have the bad guys begging to just throw them in jail already."

Steve laughed. "Sounds like a plan."

"If you think so, it must be." Becca's eyes glimmered with mischief. "You are the Star Spangled Man with a Plan."

Steve winced. He had heard that song so many times that he'd be happy never to hear it again in his life. "You know about that, huh?"

"Oh, it gets better." Becca rifled through her purse and set her phone on the table. "Call me."

Steve had a sneaking suspicious he knew exactly what would happen, but he took out his phone and called anyway.

"_Who will redeem, head the call for America? Who'll rise or fall, give his all -"_

Steve swiftly ended the call. He wondered how many other people used that song because it felt strange to think his performance could be reduced into anything more ridiculous. "That's a ringtone?"

"Eh, I found the song and made it a ringtone 'cause it amuses me to no end." Becca squinted at the screen and tapped out a text. "I didn't want to do the part with your voice. That would have been too weird."

"Yeah."

"That was some stellar Hitler punching though."

Steve almost groaned. "You saw that?"

"You bet." Becca grinned like she thought the whole situation was funny and tucked the phone away. "You're famous, remember? After you told me that you were Captain America, I went to the three first resources anyone goes to: Google, Wikipedia, and Youtube. I found an old recording."

"Great." Steve knew huge number of people saw the videos on the internet. He was embarrassed to think people could watch him acting like a well-trained monkey.

Becca patted his hand. "Don't worry. We all have at least one embarrassing video, and yours isn't even that bad. You lifted a motorcycle in the end with those pretty women on it, so that's kinda hot."

"Uh huh." To switch topics, Steve asked, "Do you wanna get something to eat? If we're here, we should probably get some food."

"Oh, no. I'm not hungry. Thanks." Becca gestured to the front of the café. "You should go get food though because I know you can always eat and it does seem rude to hide out in this booth without buying anything."

"How about a drink?"

"Um… I'm okay. You can get me a water if you really feel you must get me something."

Steve looked Becca over suspiciously. He had noticed that she'd lost some weight. The last time they had eaten together, she finished only half of her dinner because she "wasn't very hungry," which had been a first. She'd been dolling herself up every time they went out since they decided not to hide their relationship. Clearly, Becca was concerned with her appearance in front of the press, which she shouldn't be. Steve knew he'd have to navigate the subject with caution.

"Have you lost weight?"

Becca beamed. "I have! It's great, right? I haven't been this weight since high school." She patted her stomach. "I'm almost thin."

"Yeah. Uh, have you been on a diet or…?"

"Not… really… intentionally. Sort of? I mean, I've been eating less, but that's good because I used to snack all the time. I've also been exercising. Can't you tell from my rippling muscles?" Becca curved an arm, displaying no more muscle than she'd ever had.

It seemed like Becca was happy with the change. As long as she stayed happy and kept healthy, Steve supposed there couldn't be any harm. Even so, he felt he should say something so Becca wouldn't feel any pressure.

"I'm glad you feel good," said Steve, choosing each word carefully, "but just so you know, your weight doesn't matter to me and it shouldn't matter to anyone else either."

Becca seemed touched, her gaze flicking shyly downwards. "That's sweet of you to say. Thank you."

"Sure." Steve set his hands on the table, ready to get up. "So, just the water?"

Becca nodded once. "Just the water, if you must."

"I must, so water it is."

Steve slid out of the booth. He'd get some food for himself, something that Becca could pick off of if she changed her mind. Although he had agreed to give her another chance with the media, Steve wasn't eager to throw her immediately back in. They could wait here for an hour or so until some of the reporters cleared off. Before he moved out of sight, Steve glanced over his shoulder. Becca was staring pensively at the seat he'd vacated, and the last thing Steve noticed before turning around was that her foot began to bounce restlessly on the floor.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**As always, thanks for the love and support from you reviewers, guests, readers, everyone. See you next week! **


	19. All Confessions Except One

The kitchen had never smelled this good. During the remaining twenty minutes needed for the lamb stew to finish, Steve was helping Becca put together a chocolate mousse. He beat together eggs and sugar in a mixing bowl while watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Becca stood in front of the microwave with an impassive expression, arms folded, waiting for the heavy cream to be finished. She had been quiet so far tonight. Not silent, in which case Steve would have been very concerned. Becca replied when he spoke. She'd teased that they didn't need an electric mixer when they had his arms. She'd huffed over her great-grandmother's tiny, cramped writing while squinting at the lamb stew recipe. Yet, there had been moments where silence fell between them, and not the comfortable kind. This silence felt more to Steve like distance, as if Becca kept withdrawing into her thoughts until a word or touch brought her back.

Steve thought maybe the reason he noticed so much was that Becca had been even more energetic than usual lately. She had been all smiles all the time, radiating enthusiasm wherever they went. She seemed hardly able to keep still and chattered away on any topic than could hold her attention. It had become infinitely easier to make Becca laugh as well. Even with a mildly funny remark, a lot of the time she would burst into a fit of giggles. Steve wasn't sure if there was a singular cause for the sudden upward swing, but he had his suspicious.

For starters, Steve believed Becca wanted to prove that she could handle attention from the press, meeting the challenge with all of her energy. In fairness to her, she was doing infinitely better. The next time they'd been tailed for several blocks, Becca had put on a big smile the whole time and kept walking without incident. Her hand continued to tremble in his, but she had assured him that she was "just a little nervous." Since the shaking was minimal and dissipated shortly afterwards, Steve took her at her word. Also, Becca had been proud about losing weight, so she must be feeling good about herself. She had gotten the story of her accident off her chest, which might have given her a measure of relief. Taking all of that into consideration, Steve came to the conclusion that Becca had been acting so bubbly because she was really happy. And that was why her quiet worried him now. Steve wasn't sure if something had happened or if she had simply run out of momentum. He imagined it must take a lot out of a person to be quite so energetic all the time, which was the reason he'd hesitated to bring up the change so far tonight. It could be that Becca needed one quiet night in to take a break.

The microwave beeped. Steve hastily returned his attention to the beaten eggs and sugar as Becca pulled out the bowl of heavy cream.

"I'll combine this if you could get a saucepan on the stove," Becca proposed, checking the recipe on her phone while she walked the bowl over to the table. "Heat on low."

"Sure."

Steve dropped the whisk. The stew hadn't been stirred in a while, so once the saucepan was set, he did that as well. Silence descended around them. Something could be bothering Becca. There had been a moment when Steve could have almost sworn she had been frowning apprehensively, but her expression had smoothed out when he did a double-take. Steve decided that he might as well say something.

"You're kinda quiet tonight." All Steve heard in response was the scrape of the whisk as Becca mixed in the heavy cream. "Is everything all right?"

"I could ask you the same question," Becca replied pointedly. "You're not being very talkative either."

Steve glanced fleetingly over his shoulder, but she had her attention on the mixing bowl. He didn't think he'd been _that _quiet. Although Becca had noticed, so maybe that wasn't true. When Steve lifted the spoon, stew dripped onto the edge of the stove so he got a sponge to wipe of the mess. Reflecting on the night so far, Steve realized that he'd allowed himself to get caught up in his thoughts, too. Worrying over Becca's quiet was part of the reason. Also, Steve had news that he doubted would inspire a positive reaction. On the one hand, telling Becca might bring down the rest of tonight. On the other, she might get upset with him for not telling her immediately. Mulling over this predicament had kept him from speaking as much.

"You've got something to tell me, but you don't want to say it," Becca stated, as though reading his mind.

Stopping mid-scrub, Steve gaped at her. "How did you know?"

Becca shrugged. "To be honest, it was more of a guess." Steve felt instantly furious with himself for opening his dumb mouth. "Usually we make plans ahead of time, so this was last minute for us. You suggested I come over, but are pretty quiet now that I'm here. Plus, you keeping having that same look on your face as when I ranted over P!nk's new album, and I played you one of the songs, and you didn't want to say that you hated it."

"I didn't _hate _it," Steve corrected. Becca lifted an eyebrow. "I'm just not really a fan of pop music."

"I've noticed." Becca gestured into the living room where a jazz record played.

"We can put on the radio if you want."

"No, that's okay. Jazz works fine." Becca walked over with the bowl and poured the mixture into the heated saucepan. "Five minutes of constant stirring, if you would." Steve took the whisk from her outstretched hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Steve knew better than to think Becca had forgotten her confirmed guess, even though she moved silently away.

Sure enough, as she dumped leeks from a cutting board into the stew pot, Becca asked, "So are you gonna rip the band-aid off or what?"

If Becca had sensed that he had something not good to share, Steve thought that a likely explanation for why she'd been so quiet and possibly apprehensive. This changed things. He didn't want Becca to already be upset before he even told her.

"Later," Steve answered, trying to make his tone as casual as possible.

Becca pouted. "Why not now?"

"It can wait. I figure we're working so hard on dinner; I don't want to say anything that could spoil it."

Instantly, Steve knew he'd said the wrong thing because Becca stiffened. When her eyes met his, they were clouded with fear. "You're not sick, are you? Or – or dying?"

"What?!" The whisk in his hand slipped against the bottom of the saucepan, and Steve nearly spilled the mousse mixture. "No. Why would you think that?"

"I…" Becca resumed stirring the stew at a quickened pace. "I know you said that the ice and the serum preserved you somehow, but what if the effect wears off suddenly? I mean, a _lot_ of years passed. What if it all caught up to you at once? Or what if your body starting building up a tolerance? Obviously I don't know how that serum works, but I do know there's no one who can recreate it. What if something bad happened? No one would know what to do. And then you called me today, but you're being quiet, and you've got this thing you don't want to tell me, and I'm not on enough –" She rubbed her temple. "I just worry about you sometimes."

"Nothing like that is going to happen," Steve promised as he wrapped an arm around her waist. At least, he was mostly sure nothing would go wrong with the serum, but Becca needed to hear reassurances. "The changes that the serum made are permanent. It's not wearing off. So don't you worry about me, all right?"

"Okay," said Becca with relief, and Steve got a smile when he kissed her cheek.

"You know, it's a good thing all those years aren't catching up to me or you wouldn't be able to joke about me being old anymore. You'd be dating an old man for real," Steve noted, checking the clock to see how much longer he needed to mix.

"Uh, no. I'm only in this for the rockin' body. If that's gone, I'm out."

"Huh. And here I thought you liked me for my charming personality."

"Nope. If the abs go, I go," Becca joked, setting the spoon aside. She opened a bag of chocolate chips and poured them into a measuring cup. "Also, I _am _dating an old man. Yesterday I had to explain to you what the Cloud is, and I swear you cringe over facial piercings."

"I'm not used to them," Steve defended. Besides, they looked painful.

"Because back in your day they weren't really acceptable. See? Old man." Becca dumped a cup of chocolate chips into the mousse and gave his arm an affectionate pat. "But you're my for real old man. So if you would do your young, trophy girlfriend a favor and please stir that until the chocolate melts. Then the whole thing needs to go in a covered bowl in fridge."

"I don't know if I can make it all the way over there without my cane." Steve grinned when Becca nudged him with her elbow.

Once the last of the chips had melted, Steve transferred the mixture to a bowl which he covered in tin foil and set on the top shelf of the fridge. He joined Becca in cleaning the dishes they'd used for cooking. In addition to falling silent, she chewed on her bottom lip, which either meant she was thinking hard or nervous. Steve concluded it was almost certainly both and had the feeling she'd be like this all through dinner. Telling her now would probably be for the best.

"There's not going to be another alien attack, is there?" Becca asked right as Steve decided to disclose his news.

"No."

"Is there some other major threat?"

"No."

"You're not going to suggest we take a break, are you? See other people?"

"Of course not."

Steve was utterly perplexed as to why Becca would think that he would make dinner with her, just to say that afterwards. But then, he was also perplexed as to why she would think that he wanted to take a break at all. Never once had Steve meant to give her that impression, so he obviously had made a mistake that needed correcting.

Before Becca could guess anything else, Steve divulged, "S.H.I.E.L.D. offered me a position, and I'm taking it."

"Oh." Clearly that was not an answer Becca had expected because she looked taken aback.

Figuring she required time to process before he added more, Steve said nothing further as he dried and put away the cutting board she had set on the drying rack. He tried to determine how Becca was taking the news, but couldn't. She had schooled her expression surprisingly well. They completed the remaining dishes, and Steve set the table while Becca ladled stew into bowls.

As she set the bowls on the table, Becca said decisively, "I'm glad you're joining S.H.I.E.L.D."

"You are?" Steve closed the fridge and examined her face, but he saw nothing to make him believe she felt otherwise.

"Yeah. I mean, what else are you gonna do? You've got all these crazy skills. Might as well join an organization that can use them." Becca sat and picked up a spoon. Steve took the seat across from her, filling the glasses with beer she had brought. "Besides, I think it'll be good for you to have this job. You can make work friends. You can get out of the city. Maybe you'll get to do something that will actually challenge you for once while still getting to help people. I'm assuming you're going to be a – what's the term?" She tapped the spoon lightly on the table. "Oh, a field agent?"

"I think so," Steve confirmed. Nick had given him that impression when they had spoken over the phone.

Becca nodded, trepidation tensing shoulders. "I figured. It'd be silly of them not to get you out there. I'll admit I don't really _love _the idea of you being in danger. Or of you going away and not being able to tell me where you're going, which I'm sure will happen, probably a lot actually, but…" She nodded minutely, a self-reassuring movement. "The world needs Captain America. I can't keep you to myself forever."

Steve was relieved that Becca was taking this so well. Of course, he hadn't yet told her the bit that he was most reluctant to bring up. "I'll be here as much as I can."

"I know you will. Hey." Becca raised her glass. "Welcome back to the work force."

"Thanks." Steve clinked his glass against hers and swallowed a mouthful of beer. "I figured it was about time to start earning my rent."

With a snort, Becca commented, "Yeah, I'm sure giving you this one-bedroom apartment put a huge dent in S.H.I.E.L.D's budget."

"I'll have you know that all of my lamps are Tiffany," Steve joked. The taste of the stew proved to be as delicious as the smell had promised, and he was quick to refill his spoon.

"I stand corrected. You are a burden on taxpayers everywhere. I hope you're ashamed of yourself."

"I would be, but the lighting is just worth every dollar."

Becca attempted to look disapproving, but couldn't quite manage to flatten her smile. "So are they throwing you in or do you have super secret agent training first?"

"Training first." Steve had been hoping that they'd moved on to a different topic so he could put off the rest of the news until after dinner, but Becca seemed to be unintentionally inching closer regardless. "They think I'll be done in about two weeks."

"So is that, like, half the time it takes everyone else?"

"Something like that."

From what he'd been told, Steve knew his training would be accelerated, although not by how much. He might be able to get ahead swiftly in some areas, but he would be very behind in others. Going on five months in the twenty-first century hadn't caught him up on everything, not by a long shot.

"Are you training here in New York or do they have a place like Quantico somewhere else?" Becca questioned.

"I'll have to go down to D.C." Steve attempted to chance the subject, but both he and Becca ended up talking at the same time. "You said this –"

"When do –"

They both paused. Steve's instinct prompted him to invite Becca to speak first, but he hesitated for a second since the answer to her unfinished question was the news he'd been avoiding.

"You go first," Becca urged.

For a split second, Steve considered it, but he'd have to tell her eventually. "No, you go ahead."

Becca frowned irritably. He really thought she was going to argue, but instead she asked, "When do you have to go down?"

Steve swallowed a mouthful of stew that didn't taste quite as good as the others. "Tomorrow morning. The plane leaves at six."

Initially, Steve saw surprise flick across Becca's face, but disappointment came right on its heels. Her shoulders drooped. When talking to Nick, Steve had hoped for twenty-four hours so he could spend a day with Becca and give her some time to become acclimated to the idea that he would be leaving. Yeah, it wasn't like he'd be gone for a year, but this would be their first time apart. However, Nick had told him there was a S.H.I.E.L.D. plane leaving in the morning, and Steve didn't want to be an inconvenience by having to find his own way or, worse, having a whole other plane for him alone. That was why Steve had phoned Becca as soon as he had ended the call with Nick. Even so, he felt guilty.

"Well, it's only two weeks." Becca had forced a smile. "That's not even half a month."

"Yeah." Steve didn't have the heart to tell her that Nick had said the training would be "probably about two weeks, but maybe more."

"It's like any job. They want to do training right away. Makes sense."

"Right. And I'll call, of course."

"Yeah. And we can Skype. That video chat thing I explained to you once? I'm sure you remember." Steve nodded. At least he would be able to see Becca when he was away, an appreciated luxury. "Remind me after dinner, and we can set that up on your laptop if it's not already."

"Thanks. That'd be great."

"Okay." Becca straightened up, her smiling warming slightly. "So what were you saying before?"

* * *

The bathroom door swung shut with a thump. Becca sagged against the wooden frame. Finally. She massaged her scalp and grimaced. Shit, her head hurt. Goddamn headache. Becca crossed to the sink, on which she set her purse. From inside, she took out the medication bottle and dumped a bunch of tablets onto her palm. She selected three of the Adderall, nudging the tablets aside from the rest.

Because of their dinner plans, Becca had taken a lower dose of Adderall so that she would be hungry. It was a calculated risk, but she had been relatively confident in her ability to get through preparing food and eating without incident. As a precaution, she hadn't talked much. Becca had figured the less she talked, the less chance there was of her getting noticeably annoyed or depressed. The headache made her want to keep quiet anyway. However, Becca hadn't wanted Steve to be worried either, so she put a lot of effort into acting happy and smiling when he was looking. God, it had been hard though. Adderall made coping with the Oxy so much easier, and she'd been taking a lot lately to be sure there were no further incidents with the press. Becca had initially considered if she might be taking too much, but she seemed to have built up a tolerance, which meant needing to take more. Then she felt better than ever. Balanced. Unstoppable. As long as she kept taking plenty of Adderall on top of the Oxy, nothing would be able to drag her down. So tonight had been a strain.

Becca thought she had done okay while they were cooking. Although the Oxy had given her a headache – a recent development, but fortunately enough Adderall made it go away – and so her thoughts continually drifted to the relief waiting in her purse. Then, Steve had dropped that bombshell about leaving tomorrow to join S.H.I.E.L.D. Becca had pretended to okay with that decision. In truth, she didn't at all like the idea of him going on dangerous missions. He might be stronger and faster than any adversary, but he could still get shot like anybody else. And if it came down to him or another person, Becca sensed that Steve would save the other person every time. The quality was noble, yet kind of frightening since he could be in a life or death situation. Meanwhile, she would have to sit at home waiting anxiously for his safe return. Becca was also pretty sure that S.H.I.E.L.D. would have Steve going out on a lot of missions because of his skills, so he'd be gone frequently. She had grown used to him being here. Now he could have to go on some undercover mission in the middle of who knew where, and she wouldn't even be able to talk to him.

It was selfish, but Becca wished Steve had turned S.H.I.E.L.D. down. She wanted to keep him here where he'd be safe and they could see each other whenever without work getting in the way. However, Becca couldn't ask that of him. Steve wouldn't stay when there were people out there who needed his help. He was too selfless for that, too ready to fight for all the good he saw in the world.

But as Becca had been eating her stew, a little, angry voice whispered that if Steve got on that plane, he was choosing everyone else over her. He had decided to leave her behind because she wasn't as important to him as he was to her. Becca refused to accept that voice. Just because Steve cared about other people didn't mean he cared about her any less, and her feelings weren't more important than anyone's life. This was the Oxy talking, not her. It always made her think miserable things. She could hardly wait for dinner to be over from then on and had excused herself immediately after dumping her dishes into the kitchen sink.

To be safe, Becca chose to swallow four tablets with water. Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she noticed that her eyeliner had smudged in one corner so she used a tissue to neaten the edge. Becca straightened out her dress, eyeing the medication bottle as she did so. Maybe she should take a tablet of Oxy too so she could be sure it wouldn't wear off. Besides, she needed to prevent any potential pain if things heated up, which Becca planned on happening since she and Steve were all alone in this apartment andthey wouldn't be seeing each other for two weeks.

Since the evening at the boxing ring, they had fooled around a couple of times. Steve had proven quick to learn and eager to please; two qualities which when combined with his willingness to let her take the lead made him a near perfect partner. Becca had been in no hurry to push further. This was a totally new experience for Steve. He should have the chance to explore and enjoy every step of the way. Furthermore, Becca had been plenty satisfied with him so far, so why rush? Of course, she _had _planned for their one-month anniversary to be their first night together, but one of her friends had called after dinner in crisis-mode and that had been the end of that. Tonight though, tonight she had secretly dressed for success.

With that in mind, Becca fished through the bottle. She popped a tablet of Oxy into her mouth, flushed the toilet to prevent suspicion, and ran her hands under the faucet. Even though she had confided her need to take medication regularly, Steve didn't need to be reminded of the fact. This was his last free night before two weeks of, Becca assumed, vigorous training. She wouldn't ruin it.

Becca set her purse on its coat hook quietly as possible and returned the kitchen. Steve had been cleaning in her absence. The kitchen table gleamed from being washed, and even the pot with the remaining stew had been put away. There had been a lot left, but Becca had them follow the full recipe under the assumption Steve would be around to eat the leftovers. She nearly sighed.

"I put the rest of the stew in a jar," Steve said, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. "I figured you could take it back with you."

"Thanks. I will."

Steve glanced at a clock on the wall. "There's still twenty-three minutes until that mousse is ready. Do you want to check the Skype?"

"Yeah. We can do that."

Since setting a laptop down on the wet table would have been a bad idea, Becca moved into the living room while Steve got his laptop from the bedroom. She took a seat on the couch, massaging her temples. The Adderall better kick in fast because she needed this headache gone. Becca lowered her hands when she heard Steve coming.

"I don't think it's on here." Steve sat down on the cushion next to her, holding the laptop. "An agent took me through how to work this, and he never mentioned Skype."

"Well, let's see." Becca reached for the laptop. A scan of the desktop and all of the programs showed that Steve had been right. No Skype. "Huh. I thought Skype came standard on all computers now. Maybe they didn't want to overwhelm you with new stuff?"

"Maybe. I can ask for a computer with Skype while I'm away."

"I should be able to download it for free right now for you." Becca searched for the Skype website, which had a convenient download button on the welcome page. "Perfect." She clicked the button and a message popped up.

_Getting ready to download..._

_Establishing connection…_

_Authorization 199999 required…_

Becca frowned. That number seemed familiar for some reason. A minute went by, then another and another. This was taking a while. From borrowing this laptop to contact Ally, Becca had found that Steve had an enviously fast connection speed. And what was this number? She could have sworn that she'd seen "199999" on a screen before.

"Go faster," Becca muttered, rubbing the touchpad impatiently.

"Is it not working?"

"Just being slow." Becca downsized the window. Ugh, waiting for something to load was the worst. "I wonder if you're missing anything else. Mind if I look?"

Steve gestured invitingly at the screen, so Becca felt free to poke around. He didn't have iTunes, a tragedy needed to be corrected as well. Becca wished that she had her laptop to show him Photoshop since she had the full version for work. Figuring Steve might be interested as an artist, she explained the basics. He seemed skeptical that his ability to sketch would be transferable from paper to a computer, so Becca opened Paint to prove him wrong. After her best attempt at a cat, she prompted Steve to try. The result probably would have been better if he had a pen, but his cat looked more like a cat and less like a weird balloon animal. Mission accomplished, Becca checked on Skype right as the message changed.

_Approved…_

_Starting download 0%_

Skype downloaded in far less time than it had taken to get whatever authorization the site had needed, and a welcoming window opened. Becca gave the laptop back to Steve and had him follow the instructions, offering guidance when needed. She took over again briefly to add herself as a contact. Her headache had almost dissipated, and Becca didn't feel quite so depressed anymore. Even having to sort through the twenty other people with the same name didn't irritate her, which was how she knew the Adderall had kicked in.

"Okay, so once I approve you, all you have to do is click on 'Video Chat.' Then we'll be able to see each other," Becca explained. She selected the option to change the profile image so that the webcam would turn on. "See? Only they'll be two feeds, one of you and one of me."

Steve examined the feed appreciatively as Becca waved at the webcam. "Thanks for setting this up. This is much better than long distance calls used to be."

"Yeah, I always thought cave paintings seemed like a lot of effort."

"At least they had lots of important information. Now it's just 'k' and that's it."

"That was one time, and I was in the middle of a fight." Becca lifted a loose curl between two fingers, the painstaking result of over thirty minutes of work. It used to take her almost an hour to curl her hair for special occasions, but she fixed her hair up nice every day now before leaving her apartment. "This hair does not like to behave. It's a lifelong struggle."

Steve held up his hands in apology. "My mistake."

"I guess I can forgive you this one time."

"That's gracious of you."

Suddenly struck by the fact that they wouldn't be able to do this again for two weeks, Becca's next remark lodged in her throat. They hadn't been apart that long since they'd met. Two weeks without sitting beside Steve, without his arm around her while they teased one another. Her cheerful expression must have slipped because Steve's grin dimmed. Becca set the closed laptop aside. She leaned against his chest, trying to memorize the exact feel of him holding her like this, the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

"I'm gonna miss you," Becca murmured, tipping her head to look up when Steve sighed.

"I'll miss you, too."

They kissed, tenderly at first, but soon their kisses smoldered with need. Becca looped her arms around Steve's neck, half sitting on his lap as he caressed her. Finally, she couldn't stand to be stationary for another second. Desire coursed through her body, and Becca trembled with the need to _move_. She started undoing the buttons of Steve's shirt as she rose from the couch. Their lips broke apart.

"Bedroom?" Becca suggested, tugging his shirt towards her with each unfastened button.

Steve nodded, his breath ragged.

They stumbled to the bedroom. The distance could have been covered more efficiently, but they'd been kissing and attempting to remove clothes. The back of Becca's dress was unzipped, the fabric sagging around her shoulders. She considered kicking off her heels, but decided to keep them on for what she had planned. Steve had managed to get rid of both his shoes and one sock. He pulled off the other as he swung the bedroom door shut, leaving them in what street light filtered through the window blinds.

"Don't want to be interrupted?" Becca teased, freeing the last button.

Steve shrugged his shirt off and glanced at the door like he hadn't even realized he'd shut it. Then, he shrugged. "There are some things you don't do in front of Roosevelt."

The portrait in question hung out of sight of the bedroom, but Becca went along with the joke. "I guess it's just as well." She plucked at his undershirt, which untucked the front. Steve took the hint, leaving his sculpted chest bare. "Because I've got a surprise that's for your eyes only."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm."

Becca hid her slight nerves behind a seductive smile and stepped back. She hooked her fingers around the sleeves of her dress, pulling them off and wriggling to free the tight fabric. Thankfully nothing got stuck. Becca dropped the dress on the floor and set her hands on her hips. Steve's eyes glazed; his lips parted to suck in a deep breath. Yup, red lace had been a good choice. This lingerie obviously worked for Steve.

"Hell, Becca. You look… dynamite."

With such a favorable reaction, Becca felt incredibly sexy. "Well." She gripped the buckle on his belt, and Steve tensed. The buckle opened easily, and she slid the belt out. "I do intend to make you see stars."

All Becca had to do was lean upwards, and Steve met her lips before she could so much as blink. Stifling a giggle, she returned the kiss while deftly undoing his fly. As she pushed down his pants and boxers, Steve shifted to help her and his remaining clothes thumped to the floor. She guided him backwards until her legs bumped against the bed, which she stretched across with Steve above her. Even in the low light, his eyes glittered bright blue. How could anyone's expression be so lustful and adoring at the same time? Yet, Steve always had this look on his face when they were intimate, as if _she _were the most desirable one and _he _was lucky to have her instead of the other way around. But when Steve looked at her like this, Becca felt like he could be right.

Gently, Becca pressed a kiss to his lips, then his jaw and neck. She caressed every perfectly chiseled muscle, savored each hard line while he cupped her breasts through the lace. Becca wanted to feel _him _though, and would have taken the damn bra off herself if Steve hadn't been quick to do so. The pads of his fingers were coarse, making her skin tingle at the contact. Becca moaned as Steve showed her how well he'd learned all the ways she liked to be touched and kissed.

When he tugged on her panties, Becca wasted no time in lifting her hips with and shifting one of her legs so Steve could get them off. His lips brushed that ankle, kissed the crook of her knee, and then bent down right where she needed him. He'd done this one damn time before and already he knew what to do with his tongue. Not that she was complaining.

"Steve." As his name came out as more of a moan than anything, Becca wasn't surprised when he didn't look up. She pried her fingers from the blanket and grasped his hair, trying not to pull too hard. "Steve." This time Steve lifted his head. Becca gestured him upwards. "C'mere."

Steve obeyed, concern creasing his brow. "Are you all right? Did I do something wrong?"

Becca almost laughed. "No, but I thought you might want to finish this together."

Steve went still, searching her gaze. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Becca smiled. "I promised you stars, remember?"

Returning her smile, Steve noted, "You did." He leaned back a bit and reached over.

Following his movement, Becca saw him open a drawer and take out a box of condoms. At least she knew he'd been thinking this might happen. She helped Steve put a condom on and guided him inside her. Slowly, she rocked her hips.

"You feel so good," Becca encouraged, when Steve seemed tentative to respond.

That seemed to help, and soon they rocked against each other. Their lips met in heated kisses until release suddenly shuddered through them. Becca drifted in the haze of pleasure, but then she became aware of a pressure on her chest.

Blearily, Becca realized that Steve had relaxed somewhat so she supported a portion of his weight. To prevent being crushed, she shifted to make space. Steve collapsed onto his side, one arm draped limply over her belly. His hair was a mess of blonde spikes from when she'd grabbed him. His skin glistened with sweat. His eyelids had drooped, but rose minutely as Becca trailed the tips of her fingers from his chin up across a cheekbone. He looked perfect. Steve smiled lazily and kissed her. She could definitely stay like this for a long, long time.

"Was that all right?" Steve asked, his voice hushed.

"Oh, I think it was more than all right," Becca replied. She dropped her hand down, tracing an aimless pattern along his chest. "Don't you?"

"I think you're amazing."

"That's funny because I think the same thing about you. What a strange and unforeseen coincidence."

Steve chuckled and kissed the bridge of her nose. "The strangest." They lay in easy silence for a minute until Steve remembered something. "You know, the mousse is probably done by now."

"Tch. Typical." Becca rolled her eyes. "You're done with your woman, so now you want to eat."

"No, I –"

"I'm just kidding," Becca placated since Steve looked panicked at the suggestion. "I'll go get it." She might need more meds. "You stay here, and I'll be right back."

The wood floor made the air feel even colder, and Becca swiped Steve's shirt off the floor as she left the room. A quick and easy fix, and men always seemed to find their shirts on her sexy anyway. Becca did up one of the lower buttons. In the bathroom, she shifted her neck around experimentally. No pain, which was good. However, Becca thought she felt a bit of the headache returning. She snuck out to her purse, taking three tablets of Adderall and two of Oxy because it was nearing the time she normally took a dose. A door shut, causing Becca to start, but she realized Steve had gone into the bathroom.

The mousse had set, so Becca took out a bowl for more heavy cream. This recipe she had cut down by two-thirds because she had known she wouldn't be hungry, but it seemed like they should do more than dinner. Becca whipped the cream on the countertop, although her arms were not going to be thanking her tomorrow.

"Ugh, hurry up and thicken," she hissed at the cream.

"Do you want help?"

Becca jumped for the second time. "Holy shit, you're quiet without shoes on. No, I'm okay." She was surprised to see that he'd put on pants and indicated them with the whisk handle. "Is this another FDR thing? Or is it about the cross? That shalt not appeareth in front of the Lord without thine pants."

Steve jerked a thumb towards the living room. "There are windows."

"With blinds."

"You put on my shirt to come out here."

"Maybe I thought you'd like me in this shirt." Becca wiggled her hips and flashed him a coy look.

His hands stroked from her shoulders down her arms as Steve pressed against her back. Into her ear, he whispered, "Maybe you were right."

Sighing, Becca loosened her hold on the whisk and leaned against him… until Steve snatched up the bowl. "Hey!"

"Sorry," said Steve, not sounding sorry at all. He stirred the cream with ease. "If it makes you feel better, I do think you look real good in my shirt."

"Unbelievable," Becca huffed. That was a bold and sneaky move. Maybe Steve was getting _too _confident about the effect he had on her.

Once the cream had thickened, Becca folded in the chocolate mixture from the fridge. They took the finish mousse into the bedroom at her suggestion because sitting in the kitchen seemed chilly. She got down three spoonfuls, but so slowly that Steve guessed she wasn't hungry. When Becca suggested that maybe she should wear her portion instead and let him lick it off, she had been joking, but Steve had reacted in a cute, flustered manner. In the end, she was even stickier, although thoroughly satisfied. Combine that with the extra boost of all the Adderall she'd taken, and Becca felt almost like she was floating.

"Here." Steve scooted over so Becca could lie down, but she really didn't feel like lying down. She felt too energized.

"That's okay." Becca bounced slightly from where she was sitting on her knees. "I feel too good not to move. Don't you feel good? I feel good."

"Yeah, I feel good, too," Steve agreed amusedly.

"We should do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know." Becca bounced a little more. She just wanted to do anything at all that wasn't being still. "Jump on the bed? Or dance! Remember when we went dancing?" She grabbed his hands and swung them as Steve's eyes brightened with laughter. "That was fun. We should do that again sometime."

"Sure. We can do that again."

"Awesome." Becca was thrilled that they could go dancing again and thrilled to be here with him. Ecstatic really. "I'm so glad I met you, Steve. You're so great. Like – like getting to go skydiving with puppies while eating a sundae great."

Steve laughed, a full bodied laugh that made Becca grin widely. "That is –" He choked on another laugh. "I don't – I love you."

He… loved her? Becca stared at him. Her heart beat thudded faster. He loved her? Becca almost couldn't believe she'd heard those words. Steve seemed not to even have noticed what he said; he was so caught up laughing. Had had the words just slipped? Maybe he meant that he loved the way she came up with ridiculous analogies or that she could make him laugh.

"Do you mean it?"

Abruptly, Steve stopped laughing as the gravity of his words sunk in. When he spoke his confession sounded a bit nervous. "Yeah. I love you, Becca."

Euphoria. This must be what people meant when they used that word. Becca squeezed his hands. "I love you, too." Steve looked so adorably happy that Becca couldn't have done anything but kiss him. Lots.

When at last they came up for air, Becca happened to look by the foot of the bed. A packed duffle bag sat by the dresser. That's right. Steve was leaving early in the morning. Remembering made her less upset than finding out had earlier. As a matter of fact, Becca didn't feel too sad at all. Well, Steve had told her that he loved her, so who would feel sad after that? She turned away from the bag when he cupped her cheek.

"I'll be back before you know it," Steve promised.

Becca nodded. "You should get some sleep. I'm sure they've got a full day planned for you tomorrow. Tomorrow? Today?" She glanced at the clock. Wow, it was late. "Today."

"I probably should. Wouldn't want to have to spend an extra day just 'cause I was sleepy."

"Exactly." As for her, Becca needed to go home, take enough Oxy to counter the rest of the Adderall that was making her feel like she could run a marathon, and shower before dropping onto her bed. She sat up. "Let me clean myself up quick, and then we can say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Steve repeated like she had said something crazy. Of course. He wouldn't let her walk home alone this time of night.

"I took all those self defense classes on the slim chance anything were to happen," Becca reasoned, throwing a punch at an imagined assailant. "I can make it home."

"But you don't have to go. You can stay here." Steve patted the spot on the mattress that she had just vacated. "If you need more space to sleep, I can go out on the couch."

Becca scoffed. "Okay, one, I'm not kicking you onto the couch. Two, your flight is at six, so you need to get up by, like, five, right?"

"You can sleep in, like the last time you were here. Just lock the door when you leave."

This was a situation Becca had been afraid of. Her meds made things complicated. She was going to have to take a lot of Oxy before bed, and she couldn't let him see exactly what it did to her. Even if she fell asleep right away, what if S.H.I.E.L.D. moved his flight to a different time? There were too many risks. Fortunately, she'd foreseen this complication arising and come up with a few excuses.

"I'm sorry. I really wish I could. But we're having building inspections in the morning, and sometimes they come really early," Becca lied smoothly. "I'm always the one home because Ally goes to work, and it'd be weird if neither of us were there. If I'm here, I might not wake up on time, but knocking on the door always wakes me right up. It's… It's just bad timing."

With an understanding nod, Steve assured her, "That's all right. This was on short notice."

Becca didn't know what prompted her to say, "Next time. Next time we can spend all day in bed if you want."

"Well, that's something to look forward to." Steve smiled and guilt bloomed underneath Becca's blissful contentment. "I'd better hurry back then before you change your mind."

Dr. Barrett said her nerves were healing. She'd be able to keep that promise someday. And she couldn't take the offer back, so Becca shook her head and asserted, "It's just two weeks. Nothing's gonna change in two weeks."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Some good things going on. Some bad things going on. And some fairly ominous last words. **

**As with Chapter 16, if you'd like to read a fuller, more explicit version of Steve and Becca's first time, you can jump on over to AO3. **

**Many and much thanks for the continuing support. To the guest reviewers (there were a bunch of you!), thanks for the encouragement. **


	20. The Problem With Rumors

Seriously? Seriously?! Becca glared at the empty space next to the box of corn flakes. She slammed the cabinet shut, winced at the loud sound, and checked the grocery list on the side of the fridge. Oatmeal had been added to the bottom of the list in Ally's messy scrawl.

"I'm doing this for you," Becca snarled. "And you go and…." She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, which currently felt like they were trying to pop of out her throbbing head.

Well, there was nothing to be done. Oatmeal wasn't going to magically appear. Becca dug through another cabinet and pulled out a box of crackers. They were the only other food she thought would stay down right now. A couple of handfuls and then she could take her Adderall.

Everything had been going smoothly. Sure, not having Steve around kind of sucked, but he checked in with her every day. On the plus side, she didn't need to spend time stressing about how she looked before stepping out the door. There was no press to worry about or get dressed up for because she didn't have to go out. At all.

In the nine days since Steve left, Becca hadn't once stepped outside her apartment. She stopped running and spent an additional hour doing yoga instead. She had discovered that running on a totally empty stomach made her feel dizzy, and besides, there was a slim chance that someone could get a photo of her all sweaty and gross. Also, Becca didn't go out with her friends anymore, but that had already been the case for a while. The Adderall made her not want to eat or drink, which would made her seem like a stick in the mud if they went out to a bar or restaurant. Someone would notice, get concerned, and ask questions. They'd wonder too if she kept slipping off to take medication. Becca didn't want to worry anyone, so she made excuses. She wasn't too broken up. This gave her time to relax, focus on work. And Adderall perked her up anyway as long as she took enough tablets. Her nerves were healing. It would only be for another month or two. Then she wouldn't need her medication anymore.

There was only one problem. Ally.

Becca had thought she'd been good about keeping the changes from Ally, who would definitely intervene if anything seemed off. She made references to lunch dates or other things with friends, always taking place when Ally was at work or out with Danny. The lost weight she attributed to exercise and better eating habits. At dinner, Becca would eat a full meal, even though not taking enough Adderall meant that the Oxy gave her a headache. She had to eat one full meal a day at least, so that wasn't too much of a problem. Or so she'd thought.

The Oxy did make her irritable, and one night Becca snapped. Ally had tried pushing her to eat an extra helping of pasta, despite several protests. Becca had then accused her of being jealous that she was no longer the skinny one. Instead of a retort, Ally had started crying. At the time, the tears had annoyed Becca more than anything. Then, she got a surprise. It turned out that Ally had noticed a lot. She had noticed that the lack of dishes in the dishwasher and the food that sat untouched in the fridge. She had noticed that Becca's outings always lined up with times she wasn't around and friends they didn't share. She had noticed the constant, relentless energy Becca had gained, which fell down to harsh lows in the evenings. However, Ally came to the incorrect conclusion that Becca had become anorexic due to the media attention.

Retrospectively, Becca knew she should have handled the situation differently. She had just been in such a bad mood that she blew up and said a lot of nasty things she didn't mean, the least of which was that her life was none of Ally's goddamn business. Afterward, she'd stormed to her room, taken Adderall, and done lots of screaming into her pillow.

Once Becca had felt better, she apologized. Telling Ally about the effects of her meds was out of the question. When the Oxy had made her depressed in the beginning, Ally had suggested switching medications even after Becca had explained that nothing else would be as effective for pain. This time would be the same. Ally thought stress due to attention from the press was to blame. Becca decided to let her roommate believe that was the issue. After all, being accosted by the paparazzi could be stressful and getting ready to face them wasn't much of a picnic either. She had even agreed that she hadn't been eating as much and was happy with the results. But Becca had also explained that she just needed some time to herself out of the spotlight and assured Ally that everything would work out. The difficult part was convincing Ally that things were going to change, but Becca did try.

Her weight had reached the point at which Becca really didn't think she should be losing any more, so she made herself wait in the mornings long enough to eat breakfast before taking Adderall. Oatmeal was easy and plain enough that she could choke the mush down, despite the headache and resulting stomachache. As for going out, Becca had dressed up one night, said she was going out, and went up to the roof of their apartment for a while. She made sure to eat a lot at dinner, even though last night she had accidentally eaten so much that she puked. All she had to do was clear up Ally's suspicions and then everything would be fine.

Once Becca had eaten enough crackers, she put the box away and hurried into her bedroom to take Adderall. All she could think about while lying there waiting for the meds to kick in was that stupid empty spot on the shelf. She would need more oatmeal for tomorrow. The shopping list was fairly short. A little grocery store three streets over should have everything. No reporters knew where she lived and without Steve beside her, Becca basically went back to being another face in the crowd. It would be safe to go three streets for groceries. No need to dress up pretty, especially as that might draw attention. And Ally would see she went out today.

When Becca finally felt up to getting out of bed, she brushed her hair and slipped on shoes. Not having to do up her hair or change out of sweatpants made for a nice change of pace. Shopping bags in hand, Becca left her apartment. She stopped on the front stoop, sucking in a breath of air. The air might not be too fresh, but after over a week inside, the smell was refreshing nevertheless. She realized that staying in the apartment had been rather confining. The Adderall hadn't fully kicked in yet, but for once, Becca was feeling rejuvenated on her own. She really was healing.

At the end of her street a voice called, "Miss Stroud?"

Becca started at the unexpected sound of her name. She halted, searching instinctively around for the source of the voice. A woman hurried across the street towards her, smartly dressed, mid-thirties. She had a keen expression, and that immediately tipped Becca off. Reporter. Shit. Of course, this would happen when she was underdressed, under medicated, and already having a bad day. There went her budding good mood.

"I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong person," Becca lied. She debated whether she should return to her apartment or continue heading for the grocery store.

"I don't think I do." The woman stepped up onto the sidewalk, smiling. "I didn't mean to startle you. That was rude of me." She held out a hand. "Amelia Johnson. I'm with the _New York Post_."

Did Ms. Johnson know the exact apartment? Maybe it would be better not to return to the apartment building. That might buy privacy for a bit longer. Becca didn't want anything written about her being rude, especially when the reporter knew the street where she lived, so she shook Ms. Johnson's hand.

"Who have you been talking with?" Becca asked.

"Sorry?"

Becca clarified, "I'm curious who told you where to find me." So that she knew whose ass needed kicking.

Ms. Johnson turned her palms up in an apologetic gesture. "I can't reveal my sources." Of course not. "But I can assure you that no one gave me an address."

"Mmm." An itching feeling spread at the base of Becca's neck, but not pain. More like the creeps. How did this reporter find her then? And how long had she been waiting? Ugh, that did it. She would head to the grocery store just in case Ms. Johnson didn't know where she lived. Better to play things safe. "Well, it's been nice to meet you, but I've got to dash." She turned briskly away with the faint hope of being left alone.

Unfortunately, Ms. Johnson followed along beside her. "Looks like you're going shopping. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions on the way?"

"You know, I don't, uh –" Ms. Johnson would likely follow her to the grocery store whether Becca answered questions or not. She could at least be civil with the reporter so there wasn't a scene. Steve had always been polite to reporters, even when he didn't answer their questions. "Look, I know this is your job, but I'm not comfortable talking with you about Steve or our relationship."

Ms. Johnson shrugged as though this development didn't bother her in the least. "Oh, that's all right. I wanted to ask some questions about you."

"About me?" Becca laughed. "There's nothing about me that's interesting enough to publish."

"I don't think that's true. Everyone has a story." Ms. Johnson whipped out a pad of paper so quickly that Becca didn't even see where she pulled it from. "I'd like to know yours."

"Not to be rude, but I think that what you really want to know is what makes me so special that Captain America decided I'm worth dating," Becca guessed. As suspected, Ms. Johnson lit up at the mention of Steve. "The answer is: nothing. I just got lucky. I suppose you can quote me on that if you'd like."

Ms. Johnson appeared to be doing exactly that, although her scribbles were hard to decipher. "Now, when you say lucky, how was it you two –"

"I have no further comments on our relationship," Becca reminded her. A man strolling past eyed them curiously, causing Becca to lower her voice. "We feel that's our business."

"I understand." If Ms. Johnson was disappointed, which Becca thought likely, she did a much better job of hiding it than she had at containing her excitement over the prospect of getting an insight into Captain America. "Another topic then. I was hoping to find out why you decided to live here in Manhattan. Maybe one of your favorite things about the city?"

That wasn't a question Becca had been expecting. She thought Ms. Johnson would push for the angle on Steve, but this didn't appear to be related. There couldn't be any harm in answering. "Well, I went to college here, and then I stayed for work."

"You attended NYU?" Considering that information must be relatively easy to find, Becca nodded. "And you work in advertising, correct?"

Weird. Although Becca supposed any decent reporter would have done their research before tracking someone down. "Uh, yes. I'm a copywriter." To avoid giving out too many personal details, Becca returned to the original question. "But also, I wanted to live here because I love how busy it is in Manhattan. There are so many things to do and see, so many interesting people to meet. I'm never bored, you know? This city is like its own little world. There's a lot to discover, and I mean to keep looking."

"Sounds like you enjoy it here," Ms. Johnson noted, managing to glance up while continuing to scribble furiously.

"I do." All together, Becca thought this impromptu interview was going well so far, but she remained alert in case Ms. Johnson tried to sneak a question past.

"I think it's interesting that you called Manhattan 'its own little world' because we got a taste of another world about two months ago," Ms. Johnson stated, flipping a page in her notepad. Tension crept up Becca's spine. "The alien invasion, what do you think of its affect on the city?"

What did she think? Becca would love to never think about the invasion again, but she replied as casually as possible. "I think what happened was terrible, but it only made this city stronger. There were people I met during the cleanup afterwards who were just so fantastic and committed to rebuilding their home. Some of them had lost their businesses or people close to them, but instead of giving up, they came every day to help. I even met a man who lost the use of his right arm during the invasion, but he was there sweeping with his left. I really wish I could remember his name. I mean, it's people like that you should be writing about."

Ms. Johnson nodded, but asked, "So you volunteered with the cleanup?"

"Yeah." Cleary, her point had been wasted. "Oh, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was very helpful, too. They have a lot of good agents," Becca added, both in respect to Agent Greaves and because she figured it couldn't hurt to say something positive about the agency for which Steve was now working.

"Mhm. Mhm." Ms. Johnson finished up what might have been a sentence. The more Becca glanced at the reporter's writing, the less the letters appeared to be actual letters. "Back to your volunteering for a moment, a lot of the people who volunteered were personally affected by the invasion."

Becca's stomach twisted. "I think everyone in this city was personally affected in some way."

"Of course, but I thought you might've had firsthand experience."

The grocery store came into view. Becca walked faster. "I did."

"That must have been difficult," presumed Ms. Johnson with sympathy lacing her tone.

Images swam across Becca's mind. The tunnel collapsing. Agent Greave's face exploding. The pulpy remainder of the Chitauri's head. The weapon in her hand. Becca clutched the shopping bags, feeling vaguely sick. "It was."

Ms. Johnson fidgeted with her pen like she was debating whether or not to ask a question. But then she glanced at the grocery store sign. "Is that how you met Captain America?"

"No," Becca answered firmly, grasping at the excuse to get off the subject of the invasion. "We met before."

"Oh." Ms. Johnson looked disappointed. Doubtless she had been hoping for a tale of heroic rescue. Becca was fleetingly amused by the idea of telling her that they'd been in the sewers. "How did you meet?"

Becca shook her head. "That's all I'm going to say." They were nearly at the front entrance to the store. "Now, if you don't mind –"

"Wait." Just as with her notepad, a business card seemed to appear out of thin air between Ms. Johnson's fingers. "In case you ever want to get your story out there." Becca took the card, which would be tossed later, and stuck it into her purse. "And if I could ask one final question?" Since this interview could have been a whole lot worse, Becca sighed and nodded. "I'm sure you've heard the rumor going around that your relationship with Captain America is a publicity stunt. Do you have a response?"

Frowning, Becca replied, "I haven't heard that rumor actually. Why would anyone think that? Steve already gets plenty of attention without me."

Ms. Johnson turned her pen around apprehensively in her hand. "You really haven't heard?"

"No." There was more to Ms. Johnson's sudden nervousness. She also appeared a little embarrassed. Becca had been avoiding all media stories, but with a reaction like this, suddenly she had to know. She stopped walking and prompted, "What kind of stunt?"

"Oh, well… You should know this is not something we've published at the _New York Post_." Ms. Johnson offered a smile that didn't match the nervous look in her eyes. "It's just that Captain America is… well, he's a superhero and an… attractive man and you are, well, you're – of course, no one is saying that you're unattractive, Miss Stroud, but…" She trailed off uncertainly.

Even without anything further, Becca knew exactly what Ms. Johnson was getting at. So that's what the media was spreading. That's what people thought. How could anyone like Steve possibly end up with someone like her? Obviously, it had to be a stunt. All of Becca's ribs seemed to suddenly be squeezing her insides, and her throat clogged up.

"What kind of stunt?" she repeated less steadily.

Ms. Johnson looked like she was seriously regretting her decision bring this up at all. "Supposedly it's meant to show that he's adjusted to the twenty-first century. Having a stable relationship is a good indication of that."

What a dumb rumor. "If that's the case, why not pair him up with someone stunning? Why not find someone who would be more like Pepper Potts?"

"It's – According to the people who believe in this rumor, it's about showing he's still the man history has made him out to be. A man who's good, honest…" Ms. Johnson glanced at a passing stranger, obviously unable to meet Becca's eyes any longer. "…willing to look past physical appearance to see who a person truly is."

Becca was indignant and hurt. "So what you're saying is that by pairing Captain America with someone like me, it makes him seem more virtuous because he can put up with me in spite of the way I look? Because really he deserves better, but he's settling for someone less fortunate and doesn't that make him such a good guy? Is that what you're saying?"

Ms. Johnson had put away her notepad and played edgily with her jacket rather than her pen. "That's not what _I'm_ saying –"

But Becca had heard enough. If she heard any more, crying would follow. Her eyes were already stinging.

"Excuse me."

Becca hastened into the grocery store, and this time Ms. Johnson made no attempt to follow. Is that what they thought? She threw her shopping bags into a basket and pulled the list out of her purse. How many of them thought that? Was it only the media? How many regular people believed this rumor, too? It shouldn't matter because it wasn't true. She sniffed and glanced at the top of the shopping list.

Pears. Becca tried to fill her mind with that word repeating over and over, but other thoughts kept butting in. Maybe they had a point. Maybe Steve _was _settling. No, she made him happy. These were just stupid, stupid rumors. Becca ducked into an aisle and took out her medication bottle. She dry swallowed two tablets of Adderall. These were stupid rumors, and she would forget all about them. Yet, as Becca picked out pears, she ducked to let her hair curtain her face because tears had begun to fall.

* * *

He'd be right on time. Not that Steve was surprised. Like the army, S.H.I.E.L.D. ran his training on a fairly precise schedule. Although, each session could run short or over by some since no one knew exactly how long an exercise would take for him to complete as compared to other recruits. Steve went through nearly every type of training, even those areas he had experience in, such as strategy, so as to update his knowledge. He had been assigned a S.O. named David Phan, a former Marine who specialized in mixed martial arts and music trivia. Steve liked him fine. Phan wasn't afraid to push him, and Steve went to bed tired most nights.

Tonight, however, Steve planned on staying up later because he was talking to Becca on Skype. This would be their second time seeing each other since he'd left, as the other nights they talked over the phone for a brief ten minutes or so. With his packed training schedule, Steve hardly had time to think about Becca, but he did miss her. He wasn't too sure if Skype made things better or worse on that front. Seeing Becca was nice, but to not be able to touch her as well was sort of like when his favorite apple cake had been placed high up on a shelf where he couldn't reach until dinner was finished. Still, Steve supposed the frustration was worth Becca's bright smile when she saw him.

They had decided to meet with Skype at 2200, since that gave Steve an hour leeway following his final training session of the night, Water Survival and Combat. He liked to begin and end his day with laps, so Steve had run and showered before settling into his temporary bedroom in the training facility's sleeping quarters. Once he set up his laptop on the desk, Steve found Becca had a green available symbol next to her name. The clock indicated one remaining minute, but Steve clicked the words "Video Chat." The music notes cut off with an abrupt click, and a feed of Becca appeared. She smiled and waved at him from what appeared to be the center of her bed, judging from the pillows tossed carelessly behind her.

"Hi!"

"Hi," Steve greeted, examining Becca for any signs of distress. No dark circles to indicate she hadn't been sleeping or underlying tension in her posture. He had to check as Becca would never bring up a problem of her own accord, but she looked well. "How are you?"

"Good." Becca adjusted her laptop, eliminating a shadow from her face. "How was training today?"

"I think it went well. Apart from the usual, they put me in water for awhile."

"That's right. It was, uh, water survival training?"

Steve nodded. "And combat."

"So now you can fight on land and sea." Becca gave him a thumbs-up. "You are officially unstoppable. Unless they have air combat training for if you grapple someone out of a plane or something equally suicidal."

"I don't know how suicidal that would be really. I know I can fall a good distance." Steve was curious to find out just how far he could fall and meant to test the limit. This was not a notion to share with Becca, however, because she rubbed her temple, looking concerned.

"I don't care if it turns out that you bounce like rubber. If you jump out of plane, it'd better be with a parachute."

"Of course. That's basic training." He must not have sounded convincing enough because Becca's eyes narrowed. To detract attention, Steve added, "I was also working with my shield for a while trying to hit all kinds of targets."

Becca shook her head, apparently not fooled in the slightest, but asked, "Like moving targets?"

"Some of them."

Others had been high up or far away or real small. Partly the exercise was meant to test the limit of his throws, but also Steve had gotten more practice on how to throw so his shield always came back to him, no matter how many objects it bounced off. Then, he had been placed in an obstacle course with targets to take out as well as agents to disable. Steve had faced an almost identical course on his first day, but he had improved since then. Nick had appeared afterwards, looking pleased and assuring Steve that he would be ready shortly for an assignment. Nick had seemed less pleased when Steve had replied that was fine as long as he got to see Becca first. At least Nick had given up trying to talk him out of the relationship.

"Did you miss any of the targets?" Becca questioned, shifting her position on the mattress.

"A couple. They were out of my range."

Becca made a disapproving sound. "Excuses. Clearly you're going to have to try harder. Captain America is supposed to be the epitome of perfection. He doesn't have a limited throwing range like the rest of us lesser humans."

"I know." Steve dipped his head in mock shame. "I'm a disappointment."

"Well, you might be able to redeem yourself if you have an interesting music fact for me."

The music trivia Phan had imparted today centered on rock music, which Becca didn't listen to as far as Steve knew, so he debated what to tell her. "Have you heard of The Rolling Stones?"

A twitch at the corner of Becca's mouth let Steve know the question had been a dumb one. "I have."

"Do you know where they got their name?" Encouraged by Becca's curious expression as she shook her head, Steve informed her, "When trying to book the band, Brian Jones created the name from a song called 'Rollin' Stone Blues' he saw on a nearby Muddy Waters LP."

"Huh. I've never heard of Muddy Waters. Did Agent Phan tell you about them?"

"Uh, no." Phan tended to take haphazard leaps from fact to fact unless Steve asked a specific question, which he rarely did.

"Hmm." Becca leaned towards the screen, and Steve could hear the clicking of laptop keys. "Oh, it's not a 'them.' It's a single musician and he…" Her eyes scanned across the screen. "Okay, so he's a blues musician. Got his start in 1941. Come on, Steve. How come you don't know every single musician from the early Forties?"

Steve shrugged. "I told you. I'm a disappointment."

"Wait. Looks like he didn't gain popularity until the Fifties. I guess you're excus-" Knocking interrupted her. "Sorry. One sec." Becca lifted her head and called, "Yeah?" The bedroom door opened, and Steve heard a voice he recognized as Ally's, although her words were no more than an indistinct mumble. "I'm Skyping with Steve." More mumbling. Becca nodded, and her eyes flashed annoyance. The irritation was there and gone in an instant, but Steve wondered. "Chicken and veggies. Didn't even leave leftovers." After Ally responded, Becca nodded again, and the door shut. She looked at the door in thinly concealed exasperation, but that expression evaporated beneath a smile when she turned to him once more. "Sorry about that. Ally just got home."

"Mmm." Steve considered her. Becca might have put on a smile, but her shoulders remained curved defensively inward. "Is everything all right?"

"What?"

"When you were talking with Ally you seemed a little… tense."

"It's nothing. We had a bit of an argument earlier this week." Becca shrugged dismissively. "It's been resolved mostly. We're fine."

Steve didn't think Becca had seemed very "fine," whatever the result of the argument had been. "What was the argument about?"

"Just… stuff." Becca rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it. When you live with someone, you're bound to argue with them sometimes, right?"

"I guess. I'm sure it'll work out."

"Yeah."

Since Becca obviously didn't want to talk about the argument, Steve moved onto a new subject. "So what did you do today?"

Having thought she would leap at the chance to change topics, Becca's reaction surprised him. An emotion past across her face so quickly that if Steve had blinked he would have missed it. There was another benefit to Skype that he hadn't counted. Seeing Becca gave Steve the ability to pick up cues she could have hidden over the phone, such as the fleeting look of hurt.

"Not much more than usual," Becca replied with calm vagueness. "Work. Yoga. Um, I talked to my brother."

An argument between friends Steve could let go, but not anything that made her look quite so upset. He had already done just that more than he would have liked, and he didn't want to make a habit of letting Becca keep things from him when she was hurting.

A family issue seemed like a good guess to Steve. "How's Seth?"

"He's doing well. He's done for the semester, but he's staying in California with a friend for a few weeks." Nothing in Becca's tone hinted at a problem there.

Steve tried another possibility. "How's work going?"

"Same as usual I guess. I've got a deadline on Friday, but that's plenty of time." If anything, Becca seemed to be relaxing.

"Sure." Steve failed to see how yoga could be upsetting, so there must be something that she had left out. "Anything else you did today?"

The tension returned, shortening Becca's smile. "Uh… I went grocery shopping."

As with yoga, Steve couldn't see how grocery shopping would be a problem, but apparently something must have happened. "How was that?"

"Fine." Her answer came out clipped, so Steve knew she was lying.

"Really?"

Becca's mouth curved into a snarl. "Can't you leave anything alone?"

"Not if you're upset," Steve responded, standing his ground for once. Becca had always responded with anger when he pushed, but that anger had always collapsed immediately into guilt. Except this time.

"Well, I'm going to be upset about things sometimes, okay?!" Becca snapped. Steve was so startled that he recoiled. "It's not your fucking job to swoop in because poor Becca can't handle things on her own."

"That's not –"

"You know, I was trying to keep this to myself because I knew you'd be so damn busy you didn't have time for outside distractions. _I _was trying to look out for _you_, but clearly I shouldn't have bothered. You have to go around saving the world, so why shouldn't you have to save your girlfriend, too?" Becca trembled with fury. Tears welled up in her eyes, coloring her anger with dejection. "Obviously, I'm too dumb to know what to do. I should just be grateful that Captain America noticed me at all. Well, I was handling things just fine before you came along, so go help someone who needs it." Her image disappeared, leaving Steve gaping at an empty screen.

Steve had no idea where that had come from. He had never seen Becca so angry about anything. Maybe he had pushed her a bit, but Steve didn't think her explosive reaction had been warranted. He stared at his laptop, hoping Becca would call him back so they could talk. While waiting, Steve tried picking apart everything she had said to try and figure out exactly what had gone wrong.

Something had happened to Becca that she was upset about. Steve knew that Becca could handle herself, but he still wanted to support her when she felt down. He reckoned that was what couples were supposed to do for each other. As for the nonsense about her having to be grateful for being noticed by Captain America, Steve couldn't figure that out at all. He had never thought Becca should be grateful. He had never expected Becca to think she was supposed to be grateful, so where in the hell had that bullshit come from? Steve pondered and waited.

Eventually, Steve decided that she wasn't coming back. He considered calling her on his phone, but came to the conclusion that Becca needed time to cool down. She might feel better in the morning, so he'd contact her then.

Steve went to bed, but he couldn't sleep. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling and rehashing their conversation. He wished he had said things differently. Then this whole situation might have been avoided. Becca's eyes had been tearing up before she ended their call. She must have cried afterwards. Steve hated to think he could've done anything to make her cry. How was he going to fix this?

When his phone went off, Steve sat bolt upright and snatched it up. The screen lit with Becca's name. Steve experienced a burst of trepidation as he hadn't yet figured out if he knew the right words to say, but at least he wouldn't be worrying through the night. Unless Becca had called to yell some more.

Steve picked up. "Hey, Becca."

Before Steve could get any further, Becca cut in, speaking as though she couldn't get the words out fast enough. _"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have freaked out like that. I'm not mad at you. I'm really, really not. I was just in a bad mood, but I'm all better now. I promise. I'll understand if you're upset with me, but please don't be." _

Steve felt as though he had to take a breath for her, Becca had been talking so fast. "I'm not upset, but I am kinda confused. What did I do to make you so mad?"

"_Nothing. I shouldn't have blown up. That's on me."_

"Well, could you at least explain why you were mad at me?"

Becca sighed, and Steve heard a tapping sound as though she had begun restlessly drumming against a nearby surface. _"On occasion I get in these moods where I lash out. It's not fair to myself or the people around me, so I do try to keep it under control. But there are times when I can't."_

"Is this because of your pain medication?"

Becca inhaled sharply. After a hesitant second, she admitted, _"Yes. Yes it is, but I need the medication I'm taking. Hopefully not for that much longer, but for now I have to live with it."_

"I understand." Steve could recall only too well Becca crying out in pain, barely able to stand when she had been without her medication. He would take her shouting at him over seeing her like that any day.

"_Thank you. I want you to know that if I ever get really angry, the best thing you can do is leave me alone. I've figured out how to deal with this, but it takes a little time."_

Steve wished he had known this before. "All right. There's something you said though that I'd still like you to explain."

"_I said a lot of things I didn't mean." _

"Well, they had to have come from somewhere, so I'd like you to tell me what that was about being 'grateful that Captain America noticed me.'"

"_Oh, that. It's…" _The tapping noise Becca had been making finally stopped. _"Someone said something. It doesn't matter."_

"What'd they say?" Becca didn't answer, so Steve tried another approach. "Remember when you told me I couldn't bottle everything up? That has to work both ways. And maybe if it wasn't my business I'd let it drop, but this is about us. You're my best girl, Becca. You can talk to me."

Steve had reached the point of assuming she wasn't going to talk no matter what he said when Becca at last spoke. _"There's a rumor going around that our relationship is a set up. Apparently having a girlfriend is supposed to make you look well-adjusted, and having one that's less attractive makes you look more heroic."_

Although Steve tried to avoid encountering media coverage about himself, he couldn't stay completely in the dark without giving up the news. He had heard vaguely about this rumor, but like any rumor involving him, Steve hadn't cared what other people's ideas were. He had thought he and Becca were in agreement on that. However, Becca had more details and seemed to have taken them to heart.

"I thought you weren't paying attention to the press?"

"_I wasn't. I barely follow the news as it is." _

"So how'd you find out?"

"_I really didn't want to worry you with this." _

"Becca," Steve sighed in exasperation.

"_Okay, fine. A reporter from the New York Post told me."_

The thought of anyone going up to Becca and telling her that their relationship was a setup or that she was less attractive made Steve furious. "And you listened to them?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"_No. Sorta. I don't know. I mean, she sounded like she didn't believe the rumor, and she'd been pretty nice when I was talking to her." _

"You talked to a reporter?"

Steve's anger ebbed into puzzlement. Becca had never been keen on the press. Nevertheless, she was very friendly, and if there had only been a single reporter, Steve supposed he couldn't be too shocked. He had hoped that she wouldn't get recognized on her own.

"_Yeah, well, she showed up on my street and tailed me to the grocery store. I didn't want to cause a scene, and I avoided talking about us as much as possible."_

Steve was all right with Becca talking to a reporter if she chose to, but there was a different cause for concern. "So she knew where you lived?"

"_Um…" _Becca paused. _"Yeah. I was going to tell you when you got back so you wouldn't worry, but yeah. At least, she knew the street and my name. I'm not going to look, because I've already heard enough from the media, but I'm sure she'll publish what I told her. So my cover is officially blown, but we knew that would happen sometime." _

And since Becca had talked to one reporter, Steve was certain a lot more were going to try. He wished this had happened while he was around, but there was nothing he could do about the situation except trust Becca to handle the attention on her own. She had learned to cope with the press while they were out together. This was just the next step. Becca had gotten angry about him "swooping in" to save her. All he could do was give her a chance to see that's not how he felt.

"Just remember that you don't have to talk to anyone you don't want to," Steve reminded her, not wanting her to let any reporter push her around.

"_I know_._"_

"And whatever rumor the press comes up with, it doesn't matter. Nothing they say is going to change how I feel about you."

"_Okay," _murmured Becca gently.

Steve couldn't help adding, "Unless it turns out you were sent to that park to lure me into a relationship with your feminine wiles."

"_You know, we were having a moment,"_ Becca chided, sounding on the verge of laughter rather than annoyed.

"You did once tell me your superpower is kissing men into submission. Seems like it worked." Becca began giggling, and Steve grinned. "Don't tell me you're one of those femme fatales. Ma warned me about women like you."

Becca broke into peals of laughter, which let Steve know that she was feeling much better. He even started chuckling himself when Becca laughed so hard that she got the hiccups.

"_Okay, I need to go get some water, so – so I'm gonna let you go. Good l-luck with training tomorrow." _

"Thanks. You have a good day, too."

"_I'll try. I l-love you."_ Her hiccups only made the phrase sound that much sweeter, maybe because Steve could picture Becca smiling with flushed cheeks, tensed with the effort of trying to keep down the next hiccup, nose scrunching in consternation when her body didn't listen.

"I love you, too. Goodnight."

"_Good – Ugh. Goodnight." _

Steve made to set the phone down, but he changed his mind. Using Google, he typed in "Becca Stroud in New York Post." Right at the top was an article published that evening with the headline _Meet Miss America_. He read what the reporter had written. There was no mention of an address, but the fact that Becca lived in uptown Manhattan was mentioned. Between that and her name, Steve guessed that she would be easy enough to find. The silver lining was that this reporter had apparently liked Becca because she had thrown in a few flattering words and dismissed the rumor that their relationship was for show. Becca had done well with her answers, too. They sounded personal, but without giving too much away. Steve put the phone down and settled beneath his blanket. He had known people would like Becca if they gave her a chance. Maybe this would clear up some more gossip before Becca could hear about it.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**And so things go from bad to worse, but then, rumors are never a fun time. Especially for someone on too much medication to properly handle them. **

**I'm very grateful for the continued support from all of you. (Thanks N! We're getting very close indeed. And to Guest, thank you! That's quite the compliment.) **


	21. The Break

There were three of them, two lurking across the street and one loitering near the stoop using his phone. Steve was sure there had been a whole lot more reporters after the article on Becca had first come out, but several days had passed since then. However, Steve wouldn't have cared if he had to get past three reporters or three hundred as long as he could Becca again. Hopefully she was home. He had considering calling but decided to surprise her.

As he got close to her apartment building, the reporters perked up. Cameras flashed amidst the click of shutters and calls of "Captain," which turned the heads of other people on the street. Steve smiled politely and edged around the reporter blocking half of the stairs. He pressed the buzzer, waiting during the rapid fire questions which pertained to Becca and therefore went ignored.

Becca's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding resigned. "Yes?"

Unable to resist, Steve adopted the friendly, yet forceful manner of a reporter. "Hello. I'm looking for Becca Stroud. There's someone here who'd sure like to see her."

The front door unlocked with a hum. One of the reporters stuck his head through the door in a last ditch attempt to ask questions, but fortunately he couldn't actually come in. Steve ascended the stairs and knocked on the door to Becca's apartment. In response came a muffled shout he thought was "Be right there!" so he waited, unmoving except to glance once along the hallway.

A minute later, the door flew open. Steve barely got a look at Becca before she threw her arms around him. Grinning, he kissed the top of her head and returned the hug. He'd missed holding her.

"I thought your flight got delayed until tomorrow," Becca said.

"It did." The plane Steve was supposed to take had been detained on a mission, but turned up unexpectedly during the night. "But I told S.H.I.E.L.D. that I promised my best girl I'd be back in two weeks, so I was going with or without their plane."

Becca tilted her head to peer up at him and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mhm." The lighting in the hallway wasn't the best, but Steve thought her eyes looked glassy. "Luckily I was able to cut through most of the traffic by running straight here. Although I have to tell you, some of the potholes on 95 were not so good on my knees."

"Shut your sassy mouth, and get in here so I can kiss you."

Becca grabbed the front of his jacket, and Steve allowed himself to be yanked into her apartment where she eagerly hopped onto her toes as the door clicked shut behind them. Steve tried to enjoy the kiss but all he could think about were her eyes. Was she tired, sick? Had she been crying? Did she not take enough of her medication? Maybe she was in pain.

Increasingly alarming possibilities chased themselves through Steve's mind until he had to break the kiss to get a better look. Traces of bruising showed faintly beneath her eyes, barely visible through concealing makeup.

"See something you like?" Becca teased, dipping a shoulder in a provocative pose and fluttering her eyelashes.

There could be a lot of reasons for Becca to be tired. The press outside her apartment was one of them. Not that he wanted to make an unflattering comment about her appearance, but Steve felt he had to say something.

"Definitely, but her eyes are looking a little glassy."

"Oh, that." Becca flicked her wrist nonchalantly. "I've been staying up late for work. There was a deadline I missed and – Well, it doesn't matter."

Steve frowned. "That Friday deadline?"

Irritation slipped across Becca's face. "Yeah. Can we not talk about work? It's kinda the last thing I want to be thinking about."

"Sure. Sorry," Steve apologized, although he wondered what had made her miss the deadline when he could recall her saying that she had plenty of time to finish the advertisement. For now, Steve dismissed his concerns. Barely five minutes into seeing Becca for the first time in weeks, and he was already ruining the moment over what was likely nothing.

Becca smiled, her expression softening. "That's okay."

When she kissed him, this time Steve focused on nothing but the soft press of her lips and the familiar warmth of her body.

"I have something for you," he said, reaching into a pocket.

"A present? You didn't have to do that," Becca protested, but she looked excited all the same.

"Well, it's not much." Steve handed her a sheet of paper folded into neat quarters and hung up his jacket while she unfolded the sketch.

While training had kept him plenty busy, there was some downtime Steve had to himself. On a wide lawn near the Washington Monument, which offered a surprising amount of anonymity despite or because of the amount of people, he'd thought of Becca. After contemplating a clean page in his notebook, he'd begun to draw.

"Turtles!" Becca squealed delightedly, which was the reaction Steve had been going for. "Wait, is this us as turtles?" She lifted the paper closer, a cartoon sketch of one turtle with a star on its shell and another wearing a pageant queen sash. "It totally is. This gets a spot on my desk."

"I'm glad you like it."

"I love it. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Becca refolded the paper. "You know, I think you deserve a present, too." The fondness in her eyes sharpened into wicked look that Steve recognized well enough that tendrils of anticipation coiled through him. "You'll even get to do some unwrapping."

Usually he was good about coming up with a quick remark, but Steve felt as though any talk about being intimate made his brain lag. By the time words popped into his head, the response was either dirty enough that he couldn't comfortably push the words out or several seconds too late. Since he didn't want to awkwardly stare at her, however, Steve scrambled for a half-decent response.

"Sounds like a pretty special present." Steve figured that wasn't too bad. At least he'd managed a whole sentence.

"I did have two whole weeks to come up with it," Becca purred. "I decided that someone who's training to save lives deserves something extra special." The gap between them closed, and she pushed him intently backwards. Of course, Steve could have easily held his ground, but he had no inclination to do so. "You remember our last night together?"

Steve nodded. Any ground he had gained in being able to speak had been completely lost to him, especially since recalling Becca in that sinfully sheer red lace wasn't helping him think any. His back hit the door, and the hinges rattled softly. Becca kept her hands planted against his chest. Some part of Steve knew that he wasn't pinned, but the rest of him felt like he was, if not by her hands then by her fiercely confident gaze. The tendrils of anticipation had coiled downwards.

His response must have been enough to satisfy Becca because she put on a grin that Steve thought could be the eighth deadly sin. There was someone walking down the hallway outside, but Becca's smile compelled him to ignore the sound of footsteps. "I'm sure you do with that perfect memory of yours. You know what –" Until that sound stopped behind him, following by the jingle of keys.

Steve shot away from the door as though the wood had caught on fire.

Becca let out a startled yelp, her composure breaking apart into confusion. As the doorknob turned, she folded her arms and hissed under her breath, "God damn it."

The door swung open, and Ally strolled in. "Hi – Oh."

Embarrassment flushed through Steve, making the back of his neck itch. He inspected the floor and wished that disappearing was an option because he felt as though Ally would be able to read everything on his face.

"I sent you a text," Becca grumbled.

"Sorry, I must have missed it. I'll change quick and get out of your hair." Steve saw Ally pivot towards him. He was unable to meet her eyes. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," he murmured.

Once Ally left them, Steve looked at Becca. The displeasure at her roommate's arrival was still evident, even when her gaze flicked to him.

"We've caught each other doing worse, you know. Hazards of living with a roommate." The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly. "Although I don't think any of us managed to achieve quite that level of red."

Funnily enough, Steve didn't feel any better. "Great."

"I guess it's better this happened now," Becca sighed, leaning against the couch. She patted the arm rest, which conjured up heated memories Steve didn't need to be thinking about at the moment. "Like, imagine if she had interrupted us when we were –"

With Ally in possible hearing distance, Steve interrupted, "Yeah, it's good that didn't happen."

Becca shot him a wink and proposed, "Let's go find the best spot for this sketch."

Ally popped out of her doorway as they went by her room on the way to Becca's. "Hey. I hate to ask this, but could I borrow you for ten seconds, Steve? I wanted to move my bed up against the wall, and I need someone with muscles."

"I'll be in my room," Becca stated, anticipating his answer. She stalked off.

Steve resisted the urge to follow. It was his fault that Becca was acting so annoyed with her roommate. After all, he had shown up unannounced. If he had let Becca know ahead of time, this situation might have been avoided. Steve felt he should be especially nice towards Ally to make up for Becca's anger, which partly lessened his discomfort about being around her after what had happened in the living room.

"Sorry," Ally apologized, retreating into her room. "The shade broke and now the sunlight hits right in my face."

Steve stepped inside. He'd thought Becca had a messy bedroom, but Ally seemed to be living in the aftermath of an explosion. "I can see how that would be a problem. Where do you want the bed?"

"Against this wall over here. Let me clear my stuff out of your way." Ally hurried to the other side of her bed and starting picking things off the floor. Steve moved to help. While he shifted a lamp out of the corner, Ally whispered, "Listen, I don't really need you to move my bed. I wanted to talk to you 'cause I'm worried about Becca."

Talking about Becca behind her back made Steve uncomfortable, but he had to know if something was wrong. "Why?" he asked, his voice equally quiet.

"I'm not blaming you, but I think she's super stressed out about all the media attention." Ally dropped an armload of clothes onto an overflowing laundry basket. "Do you think you could talk to her?"

While he'd had conversations with Becca about the press before, Steve thought it couldn't hurt to have another talk, especially if Ally was concerned. Since she lived with Becca, Ally would be the first to know if her roommate was acting hassled. Steve knew Becca would try to keep her stress from him under the pretext of not wanted him to worry.

"Yeah. Sure." Steve went back to cleaning, but caught Ally regarding him anxiously. He could sense she was trying to decide whether say anything further. Trepidation crept in, and he made a guess. "Did something happen while I was gone?"

Ally's shoulders sagged, and she nodded. "Becca was barely eating. I confronted her about it. She got mad, but now she's eating more. I'm still worried through. Becca, she's always been really social, but no one's seen her in weeks. _Weeks_. Some of our friends have been asking me about her. They're worried, too."

Steve recalled how happy Becca had appeared when she told him about losing weight, but he knew that hardly eating wasn't a healthy way to get thinner. Shutting herself off from friends was yet another bad sign. There could be another reason besides avoiding the press for Becca's sudden seclusion. Yet, with the timing and all other indications – her weight loss, her dolled up appearance, her panic during their first media frenzy – shutting herself away from potential run-ins with the press made sense.

Another troubling realization for Steve was that Becca had been lying to him. She had told him about nights out with friends that had evidently been made up. Becca had asked for a chance to prove that she could handle the media attention. Steve had given her that chance, and she had fooled him into believing everything was all right. In a way, she had lied about coping as well. She shouldn't have lied, but Steve felt he was responsible. He had wanted to believe that their relationship could work so much that he hadn't paid attention to the warning signs that were right in front of him. That was the worst part.

"I'll talk to her," Steve promised. He surveyed the thick, wooden bed frame, deciding how best to move the bed when he noticed that Ally still shifted edgily from heel to heel. "Is there more?"

"I… I don't know for sure, but…" Ally sat on the corner of her bureau and sighed.

"But?"

"It's been weird for over a month now. It's like Becca suddenly got all this energy from nowhere. But when it's late she crashes and snaps. Lately, the mood swings have gotten worse. The past couple of days her eyes have been glassy, sometimes unfocused. I heard her crying last night. She told me to go away when I tried to talk to her, but her speech sounded kinda slurred. I thought maybe –" From the end of the hallway, Steve could hear Becca's footsteps approaching. They were soft and cautious like she was trying to sneak close enough to hear. He jerked his head towards the door, a warning so as not to give Becca another reason to be upset with her roommate. Ally raised her voice. "Thanks for fixing the shade."

"You're welcome."

Although unsure of what Ally had been leading up to, Steve had to return to Becca. Ally had mentioned slurring and crying. Did she think Becca had been drunk? As for the mood swings, Steve wondered whether Ally knew about Becca's medication. He had thought she would because the roommates seemed very close. If Becca had kept that quiet, but maybe he would suggest she should tell Ally.

Steve hesitated in the doorway. He almost didn't want to leave the room because leaving meant confronting Becca, and confronting Becca meant that he was faced with the same problem that had surfaced from her negative reaction to the reporters. Did he try to find a way to make things work or did he let Becca go? This time it seemed like a break up might truly be the best option for her. Steve hated to think he had to walk away from Becca. But he loved her, and he would let her go if he had to.

The moment Steve stepped into the hallway, Becca smiled. However, the cheerful sentiment didn't reach her eyes, and suspicion seeped through her voice when she noted, "That took a while."

A lie formed on his lips, but Steve couldn't bring himself to say it. "Yeah. Come on."

He lightly touched her shoulder and directed them into her bedroom. He could tell that Becca had done some hasty cleaning. Her bed was untidily made, and various items on her desk and dresser had been arraigned into piles. Leaning up against the wall behind her desk was the sketch he'd given her what now seemed to have been hours ago. He pulled the door shut behind them.

"Ally said something to you, didn't she?" Becca accused. Steve sighed, wishing he had done a better job at hiding the truth to spare Ally. "That bitch." She tried to storm past him, but Steve caught her arm and held her back. "You're a fucking bitch, Ally!" she yelled, struggling in his grasp.

"Becca, stop it." Steve tugged Becca in front of him, using his body to block the door. "She's trying to help."

"Like hell she is."

"She's worried about you, and apparently she's not the only one."

"She doesn't even know what she's talking about. And she had no right to talk to you." Becca made another unsuccessful attempt to get by, but Steve remained firmly rooted in front of the door. "You had no right, Ally! How would you like it if I told Danny you were anorexic, huh?!"

Steve had no idea what "anorexic" meant, but the way Becca spat the term out, he surmised it wasn't anything good. "That's enough."

"Maybe I should pick something more believable! Maybe I'll tell him you're seeing someone else on the side –"

Becca had once warned him that her medication made her lash out, which lead him to wonder if that's what was happening now. Even so, Steve felt himself getting angry with her. "I said that's enough."

"– since you're such a fucking slut!" Footsteps rushed out of Ally's room towards the front door. "You stupid –"

"That's enough!" Steve barked, unable to stand another taunt in her unwarranted anger.

Becca drew back from him, fuming but wary. "Don't tell me you're taking her side."

"There are no sides." Steve gritted his teeth, forcing himself to speak calmly. If they were both worked up, their conversation would go nowhere real fast. "But if you need to be mad at someone, be mad at me."

"Did you believe her?" Becca balled her hands into fists. "Because then I'll be mad."

Becca had told him that leaving her alone was the best thing to do when she got really angry, but Steve had to get to the bottom of her troubling behavior first. As he figured it, the best way to go forward was to confirm some facts. If Becca saw that Ally had told him nothing but the truth, she may settle down.

"Have you not been eating?" Steve asked.

"I've been eating!"

"How often?"

Becca prowled across her room, lips curved back in a snarl. "Maybe I wasn't eating as much as I should've, but I'm eating now."

"When was the last time you saw one of your friends?"

"I would have said a minute ago, but Ally –"

Before she went into another tirade, Steve pressed, "When was the last time?"

"I don't know." Becca shrugged. She studied a point on the wall for a few seconds, thinking. "A month maybe? I needed a break. Sometimes people do that."

A whole month had gone by without her seeing anyone besides himself and Ally? Steve was ashamed he hadn't noticed that anything was off sooner. "What did you need a break from? Your friends or the press?"

"Oh, don't start with this press stuff," Becca snorted. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, we have to talk about it."

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do." Becca was pointedly not looking at him, so Steve stepped closer to try and get her attention. "You've been lying to me, Becca. You lied about going out with your friends, and I think it's because you didn't want me to know how much the press is getting to you."

"That's not the reason."

"All right. What is?"

"I can't tell you. You're just going to have to trust it's a good reason."

It sounded to Steve as though Becca was trying to make another excuse. "How can I trust you when you've been lying to me?"

Finally, Becca looked at him. Obviously exasperated, she snapped, "You think I like lying to you? I'm trying to protect you."

"From worrying?" Becca shook her head. "Then what? What's so bad that you can't tell me?"

Becca wrung the end of her shirt. "Give me a month and maybe I can tell you."

Steve knew waiting a month was out of the question. "No. It has to be now." He couldn't watch her fall victim to something that had such a bad impact on her life. Neither could he trust that she wouldn't lie anymore until he knew what the problem was.

"I can't," Becca pleaded desperately.

There were no other options. Steve made his final move, though the words felt like thorns in his mouth. "Either you tell me or we're done."

"How can you say that?" Becca touched his arms, her hands leaving warm trails as they traced over his skin. "I love you."

The honest truth of her words, the open tenderness on her face put a crack in his resolve. Steve set his arms around her waist, conscious of the faint hardness of bone where there had before been only giving flesh. "Tell me what you're hiding. Please. It won't make me love you any less." And if she told him, he could figure out a way to help her.

Silence stretched out as Becca stared up at him, her eyes darting back and forth like she was trying to unravel the answer to a puzzle hidden on his face. "I need to ask you a question first." Steve nodded his consent. "What is it you love most about me?"

Steve would have liked an easier question. There were a lot of things he loved about Becca. It seemed unfair to have to choose only one. He settled on one of the first things he'd noticed about her, but phrasing his thoughts proved difficult. "You're so... alive. You have all this – this brilliant energy and enthusiasm, more than anyone I ever met." He would have gone on, but Becca got this pained look as though he had shot her.

Becca stepped away, slipping from between his arms. "Thank you for confirming something for me." She was attempting to speak with resolve, but her voice wobbled. "Now I'd like you to go. This is obviously not going to work out."

While Steve had put that option on the table, he was surprised to hear Becca agreed. He had expected a fight. "But –"

Tears glistened as Becca interjected, "Please don't make this harder than it already is."

This was it. They were over. Steve had spent the whole morning excited to see Becca again, and now they were saying goodbye. A numbing sense of shock filled him. "I'm sorry this didn't work." Steve couldn't hurt her another moment by staying and arguing.

"Me too." His body seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as Steve opened the door. "Wait." He stopped, a spark of hope igniting with that one word. Becca had her arms wrapped across her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. He would fix this. She would tell him the truth, and he would wipe away her tears and fix this. "You deserved better. I'm sorry I can't be the person you think I am."

The spark went out. Steve took a last look, memorizing her standing there, untouchable, unreachable. He had to let her know one last thing. "I never expected you to be anyone else."

With a click, the door shut behind him. Steve swallowed with difficultly, the dryness in his throat a sign that he was close to tears himself. Her quiet sob nearly broke him. He walked towards the front door wondering just how he was supposed to help her now.

* * *

"Yes, you did," Becca murmured as the front door closed.

She fell on top of the bed, curling into a ball as she cried. How could they be over? How could everything go so wrong so quickly?

The past couple of days, her medication had stopped working correctly. The Adderall wasn't doing enough anymore. Becca had felt moody and shaky most of the time, and her eyes itched. She couldn't focus so she'd missed the deadline at work. There were times when even talking felt difficult, like her tongue forgot how to move right, so her words came out slurred. All effects of the Oxy, but Becca couldn't take less because then the pain would come. Worse, Becca had been afraid of what Steve would think when he got back. He liked her when she was all bubbly from the Adderall. Even if she could stop taking her meds, would he love the less perky version of herself? She was terrified that he wouldn't, but she had thought maybe their relationship could last longer if she really tried.

Then Ally had to butt in, and her plan fell all to pieces. Becca couldn't let Steve think the press was the problem because then he'd blame himself. She couldn't tell him the truth either. She hadn't wanted to involve him in illegal medication. But mostly she knew that she had to protect him from the truth about her personality. Steve had left her with no choice. Becca was too ashamed to admit that he loved someone made of nothing but chemicals, so she let him go. He deserved to love someone real. She had done the right thing, but that didn't make her hurt any less.

Becca grabbed the tissue box next beside her bed, hugging it close and blowing her nose into a tissue. This was better for Steve. He could find a woman who was put together and could live up to the Captain America standard. Maybe she had done okay with the media so far, but they would find a way to pick her apart. Steve had told her that their opinion didn't matter. Well, it did a little if they ripped into him for being with her. At least the fans had always been nice. Could be a lucky one of them would be the next Miss America.

Curious if word had gotten out, Becca pulled up the internet on her phone. Steve was never too good at hiding his emotions. Any reporters lurking outside were sure to make a guess. A search of "Captain America girlfriend" revealed no news from today. Becca chose an article which had a picture of them together, despite knowing it wouldn't help. Tears swam in her vision as she stared at the image of her and Steve holding hands. They looked so happy. They had been happy. She skimmed the article, barely able to read through the blur of tears, but found little more than speculation. She was about to turn off the phone when she noticed one of the top comments on the article, which had twelve likes and two dislikes.

_Captain America could do better._

The comment stung. Her medication dependency might be ultimately too big a flaw, but apart from that, Becca thought she had been worthy enough of Steve. She had given dealing with medication her best effort. She had ended things between them rather than lead Steve on any further. She had tried. Shouldn't that count for something?

Becca scanned the comment section. Most people had written only about Steve. In those comments which mentioned her, not everyone had bad things to say, but there were enough that did.

_she's not even pretty_

_Is it just me or does anyone else think her nose is too small for her face? _

_wat a stoopid smile _

Unable to stop herself, Becca went back and started flicking through other articles, dropping down to their comment sections.

_it wont last. look at her_

_Guess Cap is a chubby chaser _

_ew dum bitch _

_hes so nice. hes probz dating her cuz he feelz bad. _

_I don't like him with her. Not to hate on her, but I don't like them as a couple._

_captain america u r HOT! Why dont u date some one hot as u like maybe megan fox_

_He's making a mistake. _

_I don't get it. This has to be fake._

_miss america? please. like they'd let someone that fat be in a beauty pageant _

As Becca read, pain clawed through her chest, tearing in deeper with each negative remark. How many people thought this about her? How many had smiled at her face while thinking she was ugly or stupid or worthless? A sob hitched in her throat. If the media hadn't liked her, that would have been one thing, but these were ordinary people. And they all hated her. Worse, they thought Steve was making a bad decision by being with her. She was dragging him down.

Becca needed the hurt to stop. This was too much. She scrabbled for her Adderall. Maybe she hadn't taken enough for them to work properly because she'd developed a tolerance. Maybe if she took a whole bunch of the tablets the pain would go away for a while. She opened the bottle and dumped almost all of the tablets into her hand, swallowing them with water. After shoving the bottle into its drawer, Becca decided she should take more Oxy in case she'd taken too much Adderall. That would balance her. Once she had swallowed some Oxy, she buried her face into her pillow and cried.

After a while, Becca thought her meds had done the trick. Her breathing had slowed to an easy pace, only shuddering slightly on each inhale. Her body felt kind of tingly like she was floating over her mattress instead of lying on top of it. Her hands shook, but that happened with the Adderall sometimes. All the added energy gave her the shakes. It would subside when the meds wore off a bit.

Except it didn't. Becca started quivering. She felt a pressure in her chest like hands squeezing her lungs. What the hell? She sat up, and the room lurched. Oh shit, she was going to puke. Becca got off her bed and stumbled, dizzy. She took a step forward towards the trashcan, but couldn't make the distance. She bent double and threw up onto the floor. A sharp spasm ripped through her body, and she threw up again. Her legs gave out, sending her sprawling. Cramps gripped her, sending pins and needles through her skin. Air caught in her chest. She couldn't breathe. Becca dragged herself towards her bed, one hand sliding in the pool of vomit.

As Becca tried to pull herself onto her mattress, a convulsion shot down her spine. She fell, smacking her head against the floor. A moan slid between her teeth. Get up. She had to get up. She grabbed the comforter and pulled, but her arms were shaking violently. She rose a bit and flopped to the ground, useless.

"Fuuuuuuuuuugh." Drool dripped from her chin; her lungs burned. She had to get her phone.

Becca rolled, clinging to the comforter as much as she could. It tugged part ways off the bed, and the phone clattered to the floor. She managed to get up onto an elbow, another convulsion almost knocking her on her face. Her breathing strained, barely passing her lips. Becca heaved herself forward an inch and reached out. She clawed at the power button and her phone lit up. The next spasm drove her to collapse. White crept along the edges of her vision as a sharp pain cut through the center of her chest. She pawed blindly at the screen. She had to lift her head up. Had to.

Becca lifted her head enough to see. Three tries and she pressed the emergency dialer. There was a little icon with a siren. Her hand was almost out of her power to move. She touched a number by accident, then another. Desperately she held her hand up and smacked downwards, attempting to direct the swing. The phone skidded out of reach, but she could hear the ringing.

Becca shook against the floor, fear clamping on her as the whiteness threatened to take over her sight entirely. Had to stay awake.

"Hello, you've reached Ally Kochi." From her accident, Becca had learned to put in emergency contact numbers because that helped the hospital to locate people. It took her a confused second to realize that she must have hit one of the contact numbers. "Leave your name and number and I'll give you a call back when I can."

"Ayllyyy," Becca moaned as the room tunneled. "Huhell mee. Hehph. C-cull nun uhn… cuh… nuh…"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I have to say, I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a long time. Will Ally get the message in time? Will Becca live? What will happen when Steve finds out? Cliffhangers are my favorite. **

**Thanks for the support lovelies. See you in a week. (To N: Thanks for the kudos. I do try to shoot for realism.) **


	22. The Aftermath

"… _condensing into water vapor which rises from the ground. The vapor then…" _

Steve peered at the TV, trying to figure out what the narrator was talking about when a minute ago he had been explaining how stars were formed. His eyes fell on a clock, and he was surprised to find that twenty minutes had passed. This was an entirely different program, which explained why the narrator's voice had changed now that Steve thought about it. He had been trying to distract himself, but clearly the TV couldn't hold his attention. He turned the screen off and rubbed a hand across his face.

All he could think about was Becca. Her tear-streaked face. The soft, choked sob she had let out when the bedroom door shut between them. Their relationship was over, and Steve couldn't make sense of how it had happened. He hadn't wanted to break up with her. From the way Becca was crying, he didn't think she had wanted to break up with him either.

His final conclusion as to cause of this mess was that she had a big secret, and Becca sacrificing everything to keep it; him, her friends, her happiness. Nick had warned him once that Becca had cracks the press would sniff out. At the time, Steve had thought he meant some small personality flaws. Now Steve was convinced that Nick had known the secret all along. What worried Steve was those cracks running so deep that Becca would shatter because she was clearly snapping under pressure. She had told him to leave her apartment, so he had left. But Steve couldn't truly leave her alone knowing that she might break under the strain of some awful secret. It didn't matter what Nick or Becca said. He didn't believe Becca could have done something so bad that he would feel differently about her. If Becca needed to break up with him, fine. He still had to help her, but how?

First, Steve had to uncover her secret so he could assess the best course of action. He got up from the couch and went to find the box of S.H.I.E.L.D. files. Becca's rested untouched at the very bottom. He pulled the file out and sat at the table. While getting the file had been easy, Steve hesitated to open the cover. His intentions were good, but to read through her personal information felt like a breach of trust. There was something in here that Becca had tried to keep hidden. What right did he have to sift through her life to find that secret? Steve lifted the cover slightly. It was for her own good. He knew Becca needed help. But this still felt wrong. Steve let the cover drop. He would wait a day, which gave Becca time to change her mind about telling him. He owed her that much.

Leaving the file on the table, Steve got up and turned his focus towards other tasks. There was unpacking, laundry. He noticed that the living room floor had become dusty, so he vacuumed the entire apartment and dusted all the shelves. The laundry had to be moved into the drier, and by then Steve was getting hungry for lunch. Since he had been gone for two weeks, the fridge was mostly empty. After eating a can of soup, he headed for a local grocery store. He always went to the same one because the store was close enough to be convenient, but far away enough that he could shake reporters should they turn up.

However, Steve only made half the distance before his phone went off. The number was Becca's. This conversation could go a lot of ways, but, in any case, Steve felt relieved that she was willing to talk to him. He turned back towards the apartment and answered.

"Hey –"

"_Steve?"_ The voice startled him, partly because it wasn't Becca, but also because of the raw tone.

"Ally?"

"_Uh huh. It's, um…"_ Steve's stomach began to sink. He had a real bad feeling. Ally sniffed. _"It's Becca. She's in the hospital."_

The weight pressing at his stomach turned to lead. "Which hospital?"

"_New York Presbyterian. In the ER. Room, um, Room 27." _

Steve knew vaguely where that hospital was located. He changed directions, jogging towards a subway station. "What happened?"

"_She overdosed on meds."_

"Is she going to be all right?"

Ally made a noise like a muffled gasp that pierced through Steve. _"They don't know."_

"I'm coming. Just – I'll be there." The quiet sounds of Ally's labored breathing cut out, and Steve jammed the phone back in his pocket.

He should never have left Becca alone. He should have argued more, pleaded more, done anything at all but leave her apartment. Guilt gnawed at Steve with sharp, painful teeth. Becca could die because of his choice. She had been so upset. Maybe she hadn't paid attention to how much medication she was taking. Or maybe she had been in a lot of pain and taken too much. Or maybe… There was a third possibility that his mind foisted upon him. Becca had been withdrawing from everyone, trying to keep a secret. She had been deeply hurt. She had told him that sometimes her medication made her feel like giving up. Maybe she had taken too many of her pills on purpose.

As soon as the thought entered his head, Steve shoved it away. That was impossible. Becca would never try to kill herself. And yet, the woman who screamed insults at her friend and lied to him wasn't the Becca he knew.

_I'm sorry I can't be the person you think I am._

Becca's last words to him. Steve had disagreed with her, but he should have taken the words as a warning. Not as truth. He knew who Becca was. He had fallen in love with that person. But this secret she carried had turned her into someone else, and he had stupidly missed all the signs. Steve had thought, like Ally, that the problems Becca experienced were due to the press, while all this time she had been struggling with something else personal in addition to the stress of dealing with reporters.

Steve descended the steps into the subway two at a time, hands tightening into fists. He was a damn failure. Whether or not Becca lived, he had failed her all the same. Steve prayed for the chance to make it up to her, although he prayed harder simply that she would live.

The subway ride was the slowest of his entire life. Each stop made him increasingly agitated, and once he had looked up directions to the hospital there was nothing to do but shoot impatient glances at the doors every time they opened. Steve could sense the people who sat next to him edging away like he might explode at any moment, which was about how he felt. No one came up to him, which was good as he didn't think he could pry apart his clenched jaw enough to talk to anyone.

Finally, the subway car came to the correct stop, and Steve dashed out of the station to the street above. He nearly got hit by a car as he cut through traffic, but he was past caring. He took the streets at a sprint, coming to a halt in the ER. There was a line with four people in front of the reception desk. Steve contained the urge to shove them all aside. Becca was in Room 27. A quick appraisal of the waiting room revealed doors to the left. Never mind signing in. He needed to see that Becca was still alive, and then he would come back.

"Sir!" a voice called when he made for the door. "Sir, you have to sign in! You can't go back there!" Steve looked over his shoulder at the receptionist. Recognition flashed across her face, and for once Steve wouldn't have minded if his status as Captain America got him special treatment. However, the receptionist repeated, "You have to sign in."

Steve walked to the end of the line, frustrated, but reminding himself that the security measures were necessary.

"You can go in front of me," offered the woman he stood behind.

One look at the arm she was cradling at an unnatural angle and Steve shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll wait." The line shuffled forward at a crawl until, at last, he was at the front. "I'm here to see Becca Stroud."

The receptionist typed something into her computer. "Relation to patient?" If she was asking questions, then Becca must be alive.

"Boyfriend," Steve answered before realizing his error. He didn't bother to correct himself.

"Room 27. Through those doors. It'll be on your left."

"Thank you."

Steve hastened through the doors. Apprehension mounted as the room numbers went higher and higher until he reached Room 27. The shutters inside the glass windows were open. Becca lay on a hospital bed, eyes closed. Ally sat in a chair beside the bed, back hunched and head bent. An empty chair had been placed next to her, beckoning him. He opened the door. Ally gasped in a breath and her chair creaked. Steve didn't look at her. As he crossed the room, he couldn't see anything but Becca.

The first thing Steve noticed was how fragile she looked. Her skin was gaunt, making the freckles and few blemishes stand out in sharp contrast. The tired marks she had attempted to conceal with makeup beneath her eyes had been revealed, deep purple bruises like wounds. Her lips were chapped, several red lines showing where the skin had torn. Her once-round face had thinned considerably with the weight she had lost. The effect had never seemed unhealthy, but now the missing flesh was a glaring accusation, a sign he had overlooked in its seriousness. The hospital gown made Becca appear even thinner, swallowing her shoulders and hanging loosely around her neck. Each breath she took around the tube in her mouth was shallow and raspy; her chest barely rose. More tubes disappeared beneath her gown or had been stuck into her arm. When he touched below one of them, the skin felt cool. Seeing her reminded him of how Ma had appeared when she got sick. He couldn't do anything for her then, and he couldn't do anything for Becca now.

Suddenly, Steve's legs felt weak as though he had been walking for days on end. He could hardly breathe, and his eyes burned with tears. There was nothing he could do. He'd had his chance, and he'd missed it. No words could express how sorry Steve was, but he wished her eyes would open so that he could try.

"You should sit down," Ally suggested. She pushed the empty chair closer to him, legs squeaking on the linoleum.

Steve collapsed into the chair. He was attempting not to go to pieces for Ally's sake, but he wasn't doing very well. "What did the doctor say?"

"I take it you don't want it sugar coated."

"No." False hope would only make losing Becca harder.

"All the medication she took messed up her blood pressure. She had something called an acute circulatory collapse. It's when one or more vessels in the heart collapse and fail. When I was with her in the ambulance, she – she stopped breathing for a few seconds. They had to resuscitate her." Ally put her hands to her mouth. She shuddered, and Steve put a comforting hand on her back. She stared at Becca for several seconds in silence before continuing. "The doctor said it's a good sign that she's still alive, but the next twenty-four hours are the most dangerous. She could have a secondary collapse. She could also go into a coma. She was barely breathing when I found her. The loss of oxygen could've affected her brain." Ally shrugged, a scarce twitch of her shoulders. "Or she could open her eyes in a minute and be fine. Honestly, no one knows."

All together, this was not great news, but Steve preferred uncertainty to knowing that Becca would never wake up. As long as she fought through the next twenty-four hours, she had a chance of being all right.

"Everyone keeps telling me that it was a good thing I found her. If I'd come ten minutes later…" Ally shook her head. "I almost didn't listen to her message. When she called, I thought she was just going to yell at me, so I didn't pick up. But then she left a voicemail, and, I don't know, I guess I was hoping it was an apology. She sounded awful. I could barely understand her, but she sounded like she was in pain. I should've called 911 right away. I didn't though. I went back." She hugged her hands across her chest, tears dripping from her eyes. "There was vomit all over the floor, and I swear her face was almost blue. I thought she wasn't breathing at all." Her gaze dropped to her lap. "I should've talked to her myself instead of asking you."

"This isn't your fault," Steve assured, unable to let Ally take blame she didn't deserve. "Becca's still alive because you found her. And you only talked to me because you thought I could help her." He gazed at Becca's face with numbing regret. "I'm the one who should've stayed. I knew she was hurt, and I left her alone anyway. I'm sorry." He didn't know who he was apologizing to; Ally, Becca. Maybe he was apologizing to everyone he had hadn't been able to save; Ma, Bucky, the soldiers he'd lost during the war. Guilt crushed in around him. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"Don't. You don't need to be sorry." Ally leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her gentle hug seemed to magnify his grief, and Steve trembled. "Oh, honey."

Then, they were both crying, Steve in a silence broken by wavering inhales and Ally in tiny, hiccupping sobs. He rubbed between her shoulder blades without being aware of the consoling gesture. His vision had blurred so that Becca became no more than a distorted shape attached to various medical instruments by thin cords like a horrifying piece of modern art. What he would give if he could take out a set of pens to fill in her curves, shade color onto face, and draw her lips into a conscious smile. But Becca lay there untouched, and he couldn't do a damn thing.

A nurse rapped briskly on the door and entered the room. Steve and Ally drew apart. With an unfamiliar presence, Steve found himself able to staunch his tears. He rubbed a sleeve across his eyes as the nurse checked the equipment and made a few notes. Though they asked a couple of questions, the nurse had no new information.

"Here, we better wipe off those tears before Becca wakes up," said Ally after the nurse had left. She handed a tissue from her purse to Steve, who accepted it gratefully, and took out another for herself.

"Thanks."

"Mhm. I mean, can you imagine how exasperated she'd be? She hates people worrying about her." Ally blew her nose into the tissue.

"Yeah." Steve tossed his used tissue into a nearby wastebasket. "But, all things considered, I think we get to worry over her for a while no matter how exasperated she gets."

"Amen. I'm not letting her out of my sight for a couple weeks at least once she gets home." Ally patted his arm. "You're welcome too, of course. We might need your strength to keep her down for a while."

"I would, but I don't know how much she'll want to see me. We broke up."

Ally's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Not because I talked to you, right?"

"No."

"Then, can I ask why? 'Cause when I came home you two seemed fine."

Steve debated over whether to tell her about the secret Becca had been keeping, but if Becca didn't want him around, at least Ally might be able to help her. "There's something that Becca's keeping secret. I told her that either she tells me about it or we break up, so she broke up with me. All I know is it's something to do with why she hasn't been seeing anyone recently. That and she said something about 'not being the person I thought she was.'"

Ally stared at Becca in silence for so long that Steve grew concerned he'd given her an answer that was the final straw, leaving her about to break down entirely. But then she impatiently stated, "I love you, Becca, but you're a stubborn idiot sometimes." From her lack of curiosity combined with that pronouncement, Steve assumed Ally knew the secret. She turned towards him in her chair. "Becca told you she was taking medication, yeah? You haven't asked any questions even though I told you she OD'd."

"I know she's taking two kinds of medication for her nerve pain. One's Oxycodone. I'm not sure what the other one is."

"And she told you that both of them were for nerve pain?"

Steve was about to answer affirmatively, but paused when he realized that Becca had never specified what the second medication was for. He had just assumed. "No, I guess she didn't."

Ally nodded as though she had suspected as much. "When they pumped her stomach, they found some of the meds she had taken and compared them to the bottles I took from her bedroom. Have you ever heard of Adderall?" Steve shook his head. "That's the other medication. It can give you lots of extra energy and make you feel happy. Take too much of it though, and you can lose your appetite and weight. Your might get anxious, have mood swings, even begin having obsessive behaviors like, say, obsessing over your appearance. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah." Steve could hardly believe a pill might do all that, but he didn't doubt Ally. Everything began to click into place. However, he didn't understand why Becca wouldn't have mentioned the Adderall when she had explained about the Oxycodone. Was this Becca's big secret? If so, why were Becca and Nick so worked up? "Becca said that taking Oxycondone made her feel awful. She's taking the Adderall so she won't feel that way."

"I think so, yeah."

"And you think this is what she didn't want to tell me?"

"Mhm."

"Why not?"

Ally shrugged and let out a sigh. "I can tell you what I think, but you should know it's mostly guesswork."

"That's fine." If anyone was going to guess the truth, Steve suspected Ally would be the one to do it. She was the closest to Becca and they lived together.

"Okay. Well, I've got a few ideas." Ally thought for a second. "I guess I'll start on the one with the most evidence. I think she's an addict. I talked to a doctor, and he was telling me that no one takes this much medication unless they're trying to kill themselves or they work up to it. I don't believe Becca's suicidal, so that leaves working up to it. I know Becca has to take more Oxy because she has a tolerance, but they pulled her records and her regular physician noted that her nerves have been healing. The doctor said it's highly irregular to keep a patient on Oxy once they show signs of healing because the medication's so addictive.

"And Adderall's addictive, too, and I think she's been taking it for about as long. Becca's always been upbeat, but until a couple of weeks after the accident I wouldn't have described her as perky. I thought it she was just happy to have a second chance, but – Well, anyway, once you're an addict, you start hiding away from people, you get secretive about it. With how weird she'd been acting lately, I started worrying that she was taking something. I said that to the doctor, and he thinks that it looks likely she's an addict. So there's one reason."

On the news, Steve had heard stories about people abusing prescription medication. He knew about addiction in the general sense. Nevertheless, it hadn't occurred to Steve that Becca could be an addict. She had given him a reason for her medication and had seemed fine. He wished that he had known enough to notice.

Yet, in the smallest way, finding out that Becca was an addict came as a relief because it gave him a target, an enemy. If Becca was healing then she didn't need her medication anymore, which meant that she could stop taking pills. He didn't doubt that recovery would be hard. He had seen a man give up drinking once. He'd been sick as a dog for a week or two. Even so, Becca would get better. There were treatment centers for addiction. Steve had seen the commercials. They'd have a strategy.

"Then, there's… there's Becca being Becca," Ally continued. "You've know her awhile now. How many times has she asked you for help? Ever?"

Steve snorted at the idea. "Almost never."

With a rueful laugh, Ally nodded. "Exactly. Becca likes helping people, but she never wants to ask for it herself. Why do you think I haven't called anyone else?" She spread her hands, indicating the empty room. "I could call her other friends. They'd want to be here. But I saw what happened after the accident. She hated people visiting her. And lord save you if you asked whether she needed help with something.

"You said that you gave her a choice: either tell you what she was hiding or break up. So basically you asked her to either let you help or go it alone and, like I said, Becca's a stubborn idiot sometimes. I'm a little surprised she told you about her medication at all. She barely talked to me, and I knew she was taking it."

Of the two times Becca had brought up her medication, once was in the sewers and the other was after their first run in with the press. Steve considered both situations and admitted, "I don't think she wanted to talk about it. She didn't have much choice."

"See? There you go. Becca will only admit to needing help when she's backed herself into a corner. I'm not saying it's your fault she broke up with you, but you did offer her a way out without asking for help."

Steve hadn't thought of the situation that way, but what Ally said made sense. He surveyed the various tubes attached to Becca, all working to keep her alive. "I think this is about as far into a corner as she can go."

"No kidding. She'll have to take the help now. From the doctors, me, her parents. You too, if you decide to stay." Ally gazed at him sympathetically. "I wouldn't blame you if this was too much. Or if you just wanted to stick around until Becca's better, but she really likes you. A lot. When she talks about you – and she'd be pissed at me for telling you this, but I'm going to – sometimes she gets sappy. Becca's not really a sappy person. And I've seen you two together when we've all hung out, obviously, and it's…" She shook her head. "I can just tell you're good for her. I mean, I knew that from the start. She had such a crush on you. It's been a while since I've seen her like that."

Ally placed a hand on the bed, her fingers touching Becca's. "I've known Becca since freshman year of college. I know it can be hard when you want to help her and she won't let you. I don't think she'll ever change, and maybe that's not entirely fair of her, but that's how she is." She blew out a breath, unsteady, like she might cry. "But she can't go through life by herself, so you learn when to give her help even if she won't ask. Maybe she'll get mad and you'll fight, but she'll come around in the end. And you better believe she'll be there for you if you're the one who needs help."

Eyes glinting with tears, Ally looked at him and said, "I understand if Becca's not the type of person you can be with, but if you decided to stay I know she'd want a second chance."

Steve was touched. He hoped that Becca knew what a good friend she had in Ally because it was clear that she cared a lot. To have Ally affirm how Becca felt about him was reassuring because he had started to doubt that she loved him quite as much as he'd thought. If he stayed with Becca, no doubt they'd end up arguing when he tried to help her, but Steve knew relationships weren't meant to be perfect. What mattered was that the person you loved was worth the fight, and he knew Becca was worth it. What Becca needed was someone who would push back when she acted stubborn. If she wanted him, he would be there.

"I'm staying," Steve confirmed. "She can fight me all she wants. I'll stay."

"I was hoping you would." Ally nudged Becca's hand. "You hear that Becca? You better wake up because Captain freakin' America is waiting for you."

"And your best friend."

Ally grinned. "And your foxy best friend is also waiting."

They sat there talking, although periods of silence would overcome them suddenly. Those moments were tinged with anxiety as they watched Becca, waiting on the next breath to assure them that she was still alive. Steve dreaded seeing her chest fall, uncertain in that still space between breaths of whether the next inhale would come. The following breath was a relief. He knew he should prepare for the worst, but each moment she lived made him hope for the best.

Nurses came in to move Becca out of the ER into the Intensive Care Unit. There was a rush of activity as Becca was set up in the new room, and Steve stood out of the way as far as possible without going into the hallway. One doctor remained behind after the rest of the medical team had left, a middle aged gentleman named Dr. Braxton who would be Becca's primary doctor. He spoke about how Becca was doing (all right), which equipment was being used to treat her (a lot, mostly unfamiliar), what to expect if she woke up (the "if" was still concerning), and how to handle a potential addict (firmly, but with patience). He also handed over a variety of pamphlets on relevant matters.

Steve had a hundred questions to ask by the end. He held them back since he was certain Dr. Braxton had other patients to see. Once the doctor left, Ally confessed to having plenty of questions, too. Since they couldn't use their phones, they ended up working through some of the questions together, making guesses and scouring the pamphlets for answers. Ally had a better understanding of addictions than he did, but she explained that there was a lot more education on the subject now. As she talked, Steve was reminded again of the Becca's last words.

_I'm sorry I can't be the person you think I am._

Addiction could turn someone into a completely different person. Becca seemed to have recognized that effect or, at least, was somewhat aware. Steve was optimistic that meant they wouldn't have to deal with so much of the denial Dr. Braxton had mentioned.

Thinking over their last conversation, Steve also grasped why Becca had gotten so upset over him stating that what he loved most was her energy. Since that came from her medication, Steve couldn't be surprised she had reacted so badly. There had been so many other qualities he could have picked. Trust his dumb mouth to say the one wrong thing. If she wanted him back, Steve was going list every single other reason why he loved her.

"I remember one of my friend's brothers was in a coma after he OD'd. I think he was unconscious for a whole week," Ally relayed. She jabbed a finger at Becca. "You're going to miss your TV shows if you're out for a week, girl, so you'd better wake up before then."

Becca didn't even twitch, so Steve noted, "I guess that confirms she can't hear us or she would have woken up."

"I guess. Although for someone who loves movies, Becca doesn't really watch that much –" The door opened, attracting their attention.

Even if Steve hadn't seen them in pictures, he would have recognized Becca's parents. Her father had the same nose, the same eyes, and a heavier version of her rounded face. Her mother was around Becca's height with a scattering of freckles across her cheeks. Both of them had the same dark blonde hair, though her father's looked considerably closer to white. There were more similarities Steve had picked out in images where they looked happy, but that was not how her parents appeared now. Being in the army had taught him to recognize at a glance how a soldier was handling a stressful situation, and Steve instinctively assessed the Strouds.

Mr. Stroud seemed the kind to fall apart slowly. His shoulders slumped forward; his eyes were pink from crying. He was a big man, but his posture had crumpled like he hoped to make himself a smaller target. One arm rested around his wife's shoulders, but instead of a comforting gesture, it looked like he needed the support to stand. When he saw Becca lying on the bed, he flinched as though hit by a bullet. He'd require people around him as a distraction in order to keep going.

Mrs. Stroud's expression didn't even flicker when she stared at her daughter, but her head lifted slightly as if preparing for a challenge. The opposite of her husband, she would be the kind who pressed on until the battle had ended. Her eyes were glassy, but if she had cried, it would have been in a room alone. She stood straight like a steel pole had been fused to her spine. Her hands were fists at her sides, ready to take out an attacker if there had been anything to fight. She'd need a course of action to keep going. Since there was nothing to be done, Steve suspected that either she would invent tasks for herself or close off completely. Unfortunately that could lead to snapping without a warning.

The Strouds walked to the bed and stood looking down at Becca. Steve got up from his chair, and Ally rose beside him. Mr. Stroud let go of his wife, who was straightening wrinkles from the blanket, and held out his arms to Ally.

"Thank you for finding her," Mr. Stroud said in a deep baritone that grief had made raspy. "We can't tell you how grateful we are."

"I'm just glad I got to her." Ally patted him on the back.

"Has the doctor said anything?"

"Nothing new."

"Well, they say no news is good news." Steve prepared himself to be next since Ally had forewarned that Mr. Stroud was "a hugger," so the extended hand was a mild surprise. "I've heard a lot about you, of course. I'm Ben, Becca's father."

"Steve." Steve shook his hand. "It's good to meet you, sir. I just wish it was for a different reason."

"So do I. So do I." Ben glanced at his daughter and swallowed painfully. "Uh, and this is my wife, Molly."

Molly paused in a conversation with Ally, and her lips forced into a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Steve."

Steve shook hands with her as well. "Likewise, ma'am." As soon as he dropped her hand, Molly returned to questioning Ally. "I can get the doctor if you'd like to speak with him," Steve offered to Ben.

"Thank you. I think that'd be best. Otherwise I think Ally will be getting the third degree."

Dr. Braxton was in a room with another patient, so Steve hovered outside until he became available. Once that had been accomplished, he asked a nurse for more chairs. She led him to a closet, and he carried the chairs back to Becca's room. Dr. Braxton said many of the same things he had earlier, only Becca's parents weren't hesitant about asking plenty of questions. Finally, he was called away, at which point they fell into the routines Steve had predicted.

First, Molly fussed with the blanket until it was pin straight. Afterwards, she stated that the room was too bare and disappeared to get flowers. When she asked who would like a drink, Steve said that he did to give her another mission. He didn't even feel thirsty until he began drinking the water. Molly leapt at the chance to get him a second bottle. Next, she declared that Becca's hair might get tangled in one of the tubes. Ben suggested she should sit for a minute first, but Molly shot him a furious look and left. She came back with a brush, hair ties, and a small container of Vaseline. After thoroughly brushing Becca's hair, she twisted it into a braid. Some of the Vaseline went on Becca's chapped lips. With nothing left to do, she sank quietly into a chair and read the pamphlets over and over.

During this entire time, Ben hardly stopped talking. Steve didn't mind much because he got to hear stories about Becca. About when she was seven and made a secret zoo in her room to show her friends, mostly with bugs, but the star exhibit had been a squirrel. "I still don't know how she trapped the damn thing." About when she was fourteen and had to be picked up early from a date at the mall. "I asked what had happened and she tells me, 'Dad, Joey yelled at a kid for puking on his shoes. It wasn't like the kid did it on purpose.' Then she gets this embarrassed look on her face and says, 'So I threw my pizza at him and said, "That's what on purpose looks like."' I don't think I stopped laughing for a good ten minutes." About when she went on a weeklong road trip during college and led a sing-along over Skype. "I remember that," Ally laughed. "Sort of. Ben, I hate to tell you, but we were _hammered_."

Listening to these stories was a bit like having Becca awake again. Steve kept glancing over at the bed, expecting to see her smile or reach out to give her father an annoyed nudge for saying something particularly embarrassing. He was disappointed when there wasn't any change, but he never got depressed. Between Ben's stories and Ally's occasional additions, usually accompanied by laughter, this place didn't have the feel of a sick room. No one was giving up.

Steve did notice though that Molly appeared increasingly tense, so he checked his phone and made a casual comment about the time being close to dinner. She went to see whether they were allowed to bring in food. They weren't, and that led to a back and forth about who was going to get food and who was staying. One of her parents needed to stay behind in case anything happened, and Steve figured that should be Ben. Steve volunteered to wait since he didn't think Ben would handle being alone with Becca well. However, since he was the one who brought up dinner, Molly wouldn't hear of it. Ally must have understood the situation because she asserted that she wasn't too hungry, and when Steve got up to leave, she gave him a furtive thumbs-up.

Being by himself with Molly was strange at first. She had said very little to him in the hours they'd been at the hospital, and he got the feeling that talking about Becca would be a bad idea. He attempted a few questions about her hometown and work, but her answers were short and to the point. They rode the elevator down to the cafeteria in silence while Steve attempted to figure out what in the hell else to say. By the time they'd reached the cafeteria, he'd about given up.

They picked up trays and filled them with food. Steve made sure to reach the cashier first so that he could pay for Molly as well without giving her an opportunity to protest. She thanked him, and they sat at a table near one of the corners of the dining area.

"No lecture about getting Chinese food when there's good, wholesome America options?" Molly remarked.

Steve stopped unwrapping his burger. "Uh." That almost sounded like she was teasing him. If fact, it sounded like something Becca would have said, but Molly's expression maintained its seriousness. Nothing about her had hinted that she was the type to kid around. "No, ma'am."

Molly's mouth twitched into the first real smile he'd seen from her. "Just a joke. My husband might be the talkative one, but I'm the funny one."

Steve concluded that they could get along fine. Molly didn't talk a whole lot, but the silences were no longer uncomfortable. She even asked him a few questions, the kind that he associated with Bucky's mother but were probably asked by any parent. How was work going? Was he eating enough, three square meals a day? How was he feeling? The last question was the hardest to answer.

"All right," Steve replied, unwilling to add anything further when he was certain Molly had enough to deal with.

Molly nodded. For a split second, Steve got a glimpse of anguish behind her eyes, but she resolved, "Becca will pull through. She's tough."

"She is."

They finished up and cleared away their trays. Neither of their phones had gone off, so Steve presumed that Becca was still unconscious.

"Excuse me, Captain," addressed an elderly woman who was holding two trays with lids stacked in her shaking hands. "Are you here visiting patients? Because my husband is upstairs in the children's ward with my grandson and they're both fans of yours, if you had the time."

Steve would have gone just so he could carry the trays. The woman looked like she might drop them on the way. His concern was that if he visited one room there would be a lot more people who wanted to see him. What if something happened to Becca while he was gone?

"You go ahead," said Molly, making the decision for him. "Becca would want you to go. I promise we'll come get you if there's any change."

"Thanks." Steve knew that Molly was right. Becca would've been annoyed to find out that he did nothing but worry over her while he could've been making other sick people happy. He held out his hands for the trays. "Here, let me take these for you."

After Steve had visited with the woman's grandson, he knocked on the rest of the doors in the children's ward. A lot of the kids didn't recognize him without the suit and shield, although their parents did. Steve took pictures and autographed whatever was handed to him. A girl named Desiree tried to give him her plastic Captain America shield when he told her parents that he was here to stay with someone in ICU. "So you can save them." She had been sweet.

After giving a salute to the last family, Steve returned to Intensive Care. Seeing all those smiles had made him feel better. Until he stepped out of the elevator. Becca's parents and Ally were standing out in the hallway, turned so that he couldn't see their faces. Then Steve was afraid.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Two cliffhangers in a row? I'm awful, I know. Hopefully getting to meet Becca's parents is worth the agony. I quite enjoyed imagining what her parents would be like, so it's been exciting to finally get to write about them. **

**Thanks for the support, lovelies. There were so many reviews! I got that y'all are very understandably concerned about Becca. Guess you're going to have to be concerned for at least another week. Sorry...**

**(To N: Thanks! Yeah, poor Steve. Just in the dark until he gets the unexpected phone call. "How salvageable is their relationship" is a very good question. My perspective on the Steve side of things - as shown in this chapter - is that he would give Becca another chance. I think Steve is the type of person who's loyal to a fault when it comes to the people he really cares about, as evidenced by his treatment of Bucky in TWS. As for Becca's perspective, well, spoilers! Oh, and yes the OD was accidental. Just so we're clear that the meds have made Becca depressed, but not suicidal.**

**To Guest: Thank you! I hope this chapter was worth the wait.) **


	23. Not Quite Okay

Dark. Pressure on her chest. Her body was so heavy. She was drowning. There was water in her throat. No, not water. Something between her teeth, something solid choking her.

Becca coughed, gagged. She had to get this thing out of her mouth, but her arms wouldn't obey. Each eyelid felt like it weighed a million pounds as she peeled her eyes open. Everything was white. Then, blurred shapes formed lit with tiny black spots. Her stomach contracted, sending a ripple of aching discomfort shooting through her belly.

"Rebecca?"

The voice sounded familiar. Becca suddenly remembered she was supposed to get help. She was going to choke. Fear flooded through her. She tried to sit up, but all she could do was twitch. Help me. A face loomed above her, a man with a short, even beard and brown eyes wide with alarm. Dad?

"Rebecca, sweetheart, you're okay."

No, she was in trouble. He only called her Rebecca when she was in trouble. Another person leaned in next to her dad, and she felt a hand on her arm. Ally! Ally was going to call 911.

"Help." At least, that's what Becca tried to say but a wheezing gasp was all that came out. Tears dripped in warm streaks from her eyes. Her dad and Ally looked nervous, and that made Becca even more afraid. Her hand flopped weakly as she tried to reach for them.

"You're okay, Rebecca. You're okay."

"You're in the hospital," added Ally, the calm in her tone soothing enough that Becca clung to her words. "Your mom's getting the doctor."

Hospital. Yes, she needed to go to the hospital. A clear thought cut through her panic. Or wait, she was at the hospital.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to clear the room." Although Becca didn't recognize this voice, her mind immediately leapt to doctor as the haze of confusion lessened.

"We're going to be right outside, sweetheart," promised her dad, and Ally's hand lifted from her arm as they left.

A man came into view with a smile that Becca found moderately reassuring. There was another man and a woman too, checking monitors and an IV bag. All of them were wearing hospital scrubs. The man spoke to her gently.

"Rebecca, I'm Dr. Braxton. You're at New York Presbyterian Hospital. I know this is very disorienting, but I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?"

Becca would have protested that she couldn't take a deep breath, but blocked from making sounds, she tried. To her surprise, she could breathe. The thing in her throat was keeping her airway open, not choking her. She still gagged slightly on the exhale.

"Another breath." Becca took another breath, and Dr. Braxton gave her an approving nod. "That's very good. I'm going to ask you some important questions Rebecca, so I want you to blink once for yes, two for no. Do you understand?" Becca blinked. "Do you feel any pain in your chest?" There was a point on her chest that felt weird around her heart, but there wasn't any pain. Becca blinked twice. "That's good. I know you feel a slight pressure over your heart, but do you feel a squeezing sensation?" She blinked twice. "Do you feel pressure anywhere else?" Another two blinks. "Excellent. All right, I'm sure you can feel something in your throat right now. It's called an endotracheal tube, and we had to put it in to help you breathe. Now that you're awake, we're going to take it out and give you a temporary breathing tube that will give you oxygen through your nose, okay?" Becca blinked, relieved. "You're going to feel some discomfort while it's coming out. Try to keep as relaxed as possible. We're going to hold your shoulders down just to make sure you don't move, okay?"

After Becca had blinked in understanding, the nurses flanked either side of her bed. The back of the bed rose slightly, so that Becca was partially sitting up. Dr. Braxton put a hand on one of her shoulders, a nurse held down the other while the second nurse pulled the tube from her throat. As had been forewarned, the sensation was not a comfortable one. Becca coughed, and she was sure that if there had been anything in her stomach she would have thrown up.

Once the endotracheal tube was out, a nurse wiped around her mouth and they hooked a thin breathing tube under her nose. The air from the tube was cool and made her nostrils tingle. The sensation was fairly pleasant, and Becca wished she could feel the same cool tingle everywhere else, especially in her aching throat. The nurses then left the room.

"I'm going to ask you a few more questions, and then I'll let your family in," stated Dr. Braxton, taking a seat in a chair beside her bed. "Can you tell me your full name?"

"Rebecca Mae Stroud," rasped Becca, each word a strain to get out. "But I prefer Becca."

"Where do you live, Becca?"

"Apartment 2B, 417 Malcolm Place."

"How are you feeling right now? Any dizziness?"

"No. I feel really sore, especially my throat. My head kinda aches. I guess I feel tired, too." When Becca focused on the back of her neck, she didn't feel the usual ache there so she must still be getting Oxy. That would explain why she also felt sleepy. God, they probably hadn't given her Adderall though. She had to hope she wouldn't snap at anyone. "I'd say my pain level is at a two," she added, knowing by now that doctors always asked for pain levels. "But it's not a sharp pain. More like I've been working out too hard."

"That's relatively normal for what you've gone through," Dr. Braxton informed her, folding his hands together. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Memories sprung up of the last moments in her apartment, vomiting on the floor, scrambling for her phone. "I was trying to call for help."

Dr. Braxton nodded patiently. "Do you remember why?"

"I couldn't breathe. My chest hurt."

"You had an acute respiratory collapse. That means your heart started collapsing. You've been unconscious for eight hours while your body was recovering. Do you know why all this might have happened?"

Becca considered saying that she didn't have a clue, but she figured that the chances were pretty good that the doctor knew about her medication. Her parents were here, so the hospital had probably been able to pull records. "I took too much of my medication. I didn't mean to. It's just that I have a tolerance, so sometimes it's hard to know how much to take."

"I see. And you're taking Oxycodone and Adderall regularly, correct?"

So he knew about the Adderall. Becca hesitated to answer, but Dr. Braxton had no way of knowing that she was getting it illegally.

"Yeah."

"What's your dosage?"

"Um…" Her brain was still sluggish, so Becca struggled with the math. "Three hundred fifty milligrams of the Oxy and… maybe two hundred… eighty of the Adderall."

"How many times a day?"

"I, um… Five? Six?"

Dr. Braxton looked her over. Becca noticed that his smile had thinned like she had given him a disappointing answer. She was nervous that he would ask more about the Adderall, but he said, "Well, we're keeping you on lower levels of the necessary chemicals in both in order to keep your blood pressure stabilized for now." Becca nodded minutely. That was a relief. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions yourself, but I think your family would like to see you. Unless you have any burning questions?"

The thought of facing Ally and her parents filled Becca shame, but she didn't want to talk to Dr. Braxton any more either. "Not that I can think of."

"Okay, a few final things. You're attached to a lot of equipment right now, so try not to move around too much."

Dr. Braxton was interrupted by a nurse returning with a plastic pitcher of water. The nurse handed a cup to Becca and instructed her to drink slowly. When he left, Becca heard a brief snatch of her mom's voice out in the hall before the door closed.

"As I was saying," continued Dr. Braxton, "You don't want to move around too much. If you start to feel dizzy or any pain or squeezing in your chest, you let us know right away. Just press this button here." He held up the control for her bed and indicated a red button. "If you want to lower the bed, that's fine, but for now I don't want you sitting up any more than this."

"Okay."

"Good." Dr. Braxton got to his feet. "I'm going to have a quick word with your family, and then they'll be in to see you."

"Okay, thank you."

Becca sipped at her cup of water as Dr. Braxton shut the door behind him. The cup felt like it was full of cement instead of water, and she had to rest it against her chest between every sip. This was going to be awful, she already knew. Being stuck in the hospital had been bad enough after her accident, and that hadn't even been her fault. She was sure Ally and her parents had been worried sick the whole eight hours she was unconscious. Also, she didn't know if Ally had called 911 straight away or had found her lying on the floor, but either way the experience would have been terrible. Guilt settled inside her, along with resignation that she would have to let everyone coddle her somewhat to make up for what she'd put them through. And it didn't look like she was getting out of this hospital anytime soon with all the stuff she was hooked up to. There were tubes running into her arms, her chest, and she was fairly certain she had a catheter in, too. Becca shifted her legs. Yup. Well, this was going to be depressing _and _humiliating.

Yet, Becca couldn't be entirely put out. A heart collapse sounded definitely life threatening. She was grateful that she hadn't died, and she could never thank Ally enough for saving her. If for no other reason, she'd put on a smile for Ally. Although her parents would feel better if she acted happy for them, too.

Hang on. Becca counted the chairs lined up next to her bed. There were four. Her brother couldn't have come from California so fast, but she did have other family in New York. So her parents, Ally, and…

The door opened, but only her parents came in. They both wore big smiles, but she could see the strain on their faces.

"Hi, Becca," greeted her dad. "How're you feeling, sweetheart?"

"Okay," Becca croaked. "I figured my apartment must be getting pretty boring for you guys, so I thought you'd like to visit me somewhere else."

Her dad laughed weakly. "Maybe just take us out to dinner next time."

"Yeah."

When Becca went to place her cup on the bedside table, her mom darted forward and took it. She held back a sigh. "Thanks, Mom."

"Would you like some more water?" her mom asked, pitcher already in hand.

"Sure." Becca accepted the refilled cup. The water brought relief, but the taste in her mouth was ruining the effect. Plastic, rubber, and puke were not a good combination. "Do you have tic-tacs or something?"

Her mom questioned, "Are you allowed to have tic-tacs?"

"I don't know. Probably. What's one tic-tac going to do?"

"I'll go check."

"No, it's fine. Mom, never mind. Mom." But her mother was already out the door. Becca supposed she should have known better. She smiled at her dad. He had taken one of the chairs and rested his hand on her leg like he needed the contact for reassurance. "Did Ally leave?"

Her dad shook his head. "She's waiting outside. We didn't want to overwhelm you."

"Oh. Well, who else is here?"

"Steve came to see you too, sweetheart." Her dad patted her leg. "He seems nice. He's been very polite."

Steve was here? Panic scrambled through Becca's nerves. The last thing she had done was break up with him, and he still came. Of course he had. The moment Ally told him – because that's how he must have found out – Steve had probably come running, even though she had pushed him away. He was too good for her, but he was too good for anyone really. He must have been worried over her. As if she hadn't hurt him enough today. Had he told her parents that they'd broken up? Her dad wasn't acting like Steve had said anything. So not only was she going to have to struggle to look Steve in the eye, she didn't know how she was supposed to act around him either.

"You okay?" Eyebrows furrowing in concern, her dad started to get up. "Do you need me to get the doctor?"

"No. I'm fine," Becca assured him, summoning up another smile. "My throat's just a little achy."

"Ah." Her dad hesitated, but ultimately sank back into his chair.

Her mom came in and announced, "They don't want you to have any food for a while."

"Okay. No worries, Mom."

"Would it be all right for your friends to come in?"

Could she have said no? Her mom held the door half open so Ally and Steve would hear the answer. However, Becca wouldn't have left them out there anyway, even though she wasn't ready to face either of them.

"Sure."

Ally came in first. She was still wearing her work clothes. Well, Becca had driven her out of the apartment before Ally had the chance to change. Yet another reason that Becca felt guilty. Ally had been trying to do the right thing by talking to Steve, Becca knew that. There had been no reason for her to turn on Ally and get so nasty. If her Adderall had been working correctly, she never would have flipped out like that. Her eyes fell on spotted stains on the gray slacks. Those hadn't been there earlier, and they were only on the knees and below like Ally had knelt in something. Vomit probably.

Becca didn't think it was possible to feel worse, but then she glanced at Steve. She wished he would have looked angry or maybe a little resigned; something that would let her know that breaking up with him had been the right choice. Instead, he looked tired and anxious. He was doing a decent job of hiding both those feelings, but she could tell. His appearance was more rumpled than usual, and he carried extra tension in his jaw. Meeting his eyes was the worst part because she saw his gaze soften the same way it did right before he kissed her cheek or put his arm around her. That gaze said "I love you" just as clear as words could, and Becca had to quell the urge to say it right back. She looked away.

"So welcome back to reality, huh, Sleepy Beauty?" said Ally brightly. "Just had to go and prick your finger on the wheel."

"In my defense, it was very shiny," replied Becca, shifting her weight in an attempt to get more comfortable. "You know I can't resist shiny."

Ally took a middle chair next to her dad with a grin. "Oh, we heard. Ben told us about that coin dress you had as a kid."

Becca groaned. "You told them that story?"

"I thought it was cute," her dad protested. "You worked hard on that dress."

"And then it fell off _in public_."

"You certainly didn't care at the time."

Becca half wished she was unconscious again. She wouldn't have minded that her dad talked so much if it wasn't for the fact that he always ended up saying something embarrassing. She could only image what other stories he had shared with Steve and Ally. Why did his memory have to be so good? Usually her mom stopped him, but apparently not this time.

"At least he didn't tell the sock story," she added, taking the empty cup from Becca's hand for another refill.

Ally leaned forward curiously. "What's the sock story?"

"There's no sock story," Becca hurriedly interjected. She shook her head at the cup her mom held out. "Jeez, aren't visiting hours over yet? Don't you all have places to be?"

"We're right where we need to be," her dad stated and touched her arm. "And for me that's embarrassing my favorite daughter."

A dad-ism, and Becca replied like she always did. "I'm your only daughter."

He followed up with the usual response. "And thank god for that because one was enough for your poor old dad."

"Hmph. And I thought you might appreciate me more now, considering..." Becca realized that the comment, which she had intended to be teasing, didn't sound right. She stopped talking, but too late. The words hung in the air, dampening the casual atmosphere with a sudden fog of unease. Her father had drooped in his chair, hurt. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay, sweetheart."

"No, it's not. I'm sorry." Becca knew she had to apologize for more than a stupid comment, and now seemed like as good a time as any. "I'm sorry for putting you all through this. I made a mistake. More than one today, actually." She glanced at Ally. "I said some things and did some things I wish I could take back. But I can't, so here we are." Her eyes flicked to Steve before landing on her parents. "This wasn't my best day, not by a long shot. I'm very lucky to have you all here. I'm very lucky to _be_ here. I know that, so please believe me when I say that I'm going to try to do better." Her parents were tearing up, and so was Ally. Steve's eyes were dry, but he appeared on the verge of being choked up. Between the four of them, Becca felt like she might lose it herself. She needed to wrap this up before she started bawling. "And I don't want any of you to worry about me 'cause I'm going to be okay. I promise."

Despite her best efforts, Becca cried. The stress of everything dropped on her at once. She was so tired, sore, guilty. To say this had been a bad day would have been an understatement. Her dad tried to get up for a hug, but her mom held him back, murmuring "the tubes." Becca reached towards him to offer some other comfort instead. Her arm trembled with the effort of staying aloft, but her dad took her hand. Then, her mom added her hand to theirs. Ally touched Becca's wrist, fingertips squeezing lightly. Steve held beneath her forearm, supporting the weight while his thumb rubbed gently over her skin.

"We love you, Becca," her mom said.

"Yeah," agreed Ally. "And even if you've made mistakes, I forgive you. I think we all do." Nodding and the tightening of hands confirmed their forgiveness.

Her dad added, "We're here for you."

"All of us," insisted Steve.

"All of us," Ally echoed. She winked. "So we know you'll be okay."

The outpouring of affection made Becca gasp in a sob. She had felt so awful these past few days, like the whole world was working against her. She needed to be the one who took care of herself, but it still meant a lot to have the four people closest to her say they forgave her and wouldn't abandon her for what she'd done. Becca had thought she was okay shut up in her apartment, but she realized that she'd been very lonely. Maybe hiding away hadn't been the greatest plan after all. Maybe that's why the Adderall hadn't been working so well anymore, because she needed other people to keep her balanced, not just medication.

"Thank you," sniffed Becca.

"Here." Her mom retrieved a tissue from her purse, and Becca allowed her to wipe away tears. "Blow your nose too, dear. Have to keep that breathing tube clear."

While Becca cleaned her nose, her mom set about fussing over everyone else. The mood eased once more into a pleasant buzz like they were sitting around a living room instead of a hospital bed. Becca grew steadily sleepier, but she couldn't kick anyone out. Although they all seemed happy enough, she detected a faint sense of anxiety whenever a nurse came in to inspect the equipment and ask her questions. The rest of the time her dad and Ally did most of the talking, which didn't come as a surprise. Her mom offered a comment or two while periodically checking to see if Becca needed something. Steve was fairly quiet. Becca found that weird at first, but she'd never seen him in a group environment before. Not to mention that being around an ex's parents couldn't be a comfortable situation. She kept almost making comments to include him, but that would mean looking at him, which twisted her stomach up in knots. Ally was the one who made the effort instead.

However, Ally and her dad eventually left to get dinner. Only a few minutes later, her mom asked if Becca was feeling cold. Becca was feeling a bit chilly, but she insisted otherwise. Apparently she wasn't convincing enough because her mom left to track down an extra blanket. Which left Becca with Steve. Alone.

* * *

Becca was hardly looking at him. Since she had woken up, she'd glanced at him a couple of times at most. As for speaking to him, she hadn't done that at all. Not a single word. The way Steve figured it, Ally had been wrong. Becca didn't want another chance. She just wanted him gone. Steve wasn't going to up and dismiss himself in front of her parents, however. And since Dr. Braxton had explained that the first twenty-four hours were dangerous, he felt compelled to stay in case anything happen. When visiting hours were over, then he would go. Becca had her parents and Ally to take care of her. She didn't need him. He would ask Ally for her number so that he had a way to check in and make sure things were going all right, but that would be it. He had told Becca that he'd be there for her. If she changed her mind, she knew where to find him.

When Molly left them alone, Becca studied her hands and Steve prepared to wait through minutes of silence. She still looked so delicate with all those tubes sticking out of her. Her cheeks hadn't regained their color yet, and he could tell that every movement took a great deal of effort. He wanted to stay and help her. There was so much to say, but Steve wasn't sure if Becca needed to hear any of it or if he was merely hoping for a chance to win her back.

"I'm sure you were looking forward to a more relaxing day," Becca gathered, surprising him by speaking.

"That's all right. I relaxed for seventy years. I need as much action as I can get." The corner of Becca's mouth twitched into a smile. Steve just wished she would look at him. "Becca…" Her eyes lifted, and, as she finally held his gaze, he saw how much it pained her to look at him. He had to make one last effort to stop her hurting. "I know about the Adderall."

Becca flinched. "Do you know what it does?"

"Gives you energy. Makes you happy when you're feeling down."

"So you understand why I broke up with you then."

Steve knew the reasons that Ally had given him, reasons which made sense in their way, but not enough sense for him to be satisfied. "Not really."

"Not really?" Becca's eyebrows pinched in exasperation. "You told me that what you loved most about me was my energy. Even the first time you said you loved me, it just slipped out because I was happy and enthusiastic enough to make you laugh. That was the Adderall, not me. The person you love doesn't exist."

"Yes, she does." Steve had been sitting in the chair near to her feet, but he was compelled to move up so that he could sit right beside her. "I laughed because you were funny, Becca. No pill is going to give you a sense of humor. That's you. I love that you can make me laugh. That's why it slipped out. And when you asked me to decide what I loved most about you, I just chose a reason at random because there were too many to pick from." Becca looked disbelieving, so Steve questioned, "Would you have loved me without the serum?"

Becca's nose wrinkled. "That's not the same thing. The serum altered you physically. It didn't change who you were."

"Adderall gave you more energy. That's physical."

"No, it's different. The energy I get from Adderall is more like perky energy. It's how I can be so happy all the time."

"Are you saying you were never happy without it?"

"No. It's…" Becca searched the room as though she hoped someone would appear to take her side. "It's complicated."

Steve didn't think things were as complicated as Becca was making them, and he had a point to reach. "Would you have loved me without the serum, yes or no?"

"You can't –"

"Yes or no?"

Becca heaved out a sigh. "Yes, of course."

"Why?"

"You're asking me why I love you?" Steve noted that she had used the present tense and that filled him with hope. He nodded. Becca rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "I don't know! A lot of reasons."

"So you agree that it's hard to choose one reason why you love someone?" Steve asked, triumphant that he had made his point.

"Well – but – I…" The irritation on Becca's face flickered out, leaving with a disheartened expression. "Look, I've been on meds since we met, and they make me different. You don't know me, not really."

Steve knew with certainty that she was wrong, but he had to think over how to prove it. Finally, he said, "I know that you care a lot about other people. I know that you feel like you need to work out problems by yourself. I know that when you're getting ready to argue, your nose crinkles up. I know that you'll laugh over jokes in your favorite movies no matter how many times you've heard them. I know that this –" Steve stroked lightly behind Becca's ear. She flinched, and made a gasping noise that was almost a laugh. He smiled. "– is where you're ticklish, even though you said you're not." He touched the back of her hand. Seeing as she made no attempt to move away, Steve threaded his fingers through hers. "I know you love me. And that's enough."

When he finished, Becca was smiling tenderly. "I guess you do know a thing or two about me."

"Well, I would hope so since you're my best girl and all. Or were."

"Are," Becca corrected, but sounding less certain added, "I mean, if you want. I know I kinda put you through the wringer today."

"So a typical Thursday." Steve grinned when Becca huffed at him. "Of course I want you back. Besides, I told the ER receptionist that I was your boyfriend, so now it'll be true."

"Oh, good. Glad I could fix that for you."

"Yeah, otherwise the name of Captain America would have been tarnished forever."

"Tch. Like I'd need another reason for people to hate me."

"No one hates you." Becca looked away with a diminutive shrug, which Steve took as a signal that she didn't believe him. A doctor and nurse came in briefly to check on Becca and change the bag on one of the IVs. Once they had left, Steve persisted, "Why would you think that people hate you?"

"It's nothing," Becca assured him. "You know I open my mouth and stuff just comes out."

That might be the case, but whenever Becca spoke without thinking Steve had learned to take whatever she said seriously. "Did someone say something to you?"

"No."

Suddenly remembering the last time she had gotten upset over what other people thought, Steve asked, "Have you been looking at what the press has been publishing?"

"_No_." Becca licked her bottom lip and admitted, "I read some of the comment sections."

Steve sighed. "Becca…"

"I know! I know it's stupid. I shouldn't care what someone who's never met me thinks. And I don't _really_, but… it hurts when you've got all these people saying that your boyfriend can do better than you or that you're ugly or fat." Becca shook her head. "You know, I was fine with the weight I was before. Like, yeah, I wouldn't have minded dropping five pounds, but I still felt good about myself. But when I started losing a lot of weight I was happy because I knew that people would say awful things about you for dating a curvy woman. And the extra hour it took to get ready to go out seemed worth it." She turned her hand over to take his properly. "And I know you don't care what they say about you, but I care. I tried so hard to make myself look like what I thought Miss America should be, and it's like it didn't even matter."

Her confession added to the expanding list of things Steve wished he had taken more time to talk about with Becca. Sure, he had mentioned to her that he didn't care about her weight, but he had never brought up the subject again. As for dolling herself up, Steve guessed the effort was for the press, but had never asked. He thought she looked good no matter what she wore, and he had told her countless times how pretty she was. He had assumed Becca knew how he felt. If she wanted to dress up for the press, that was fine. Whatever she needed to do to feel beautiful, Steve figured that was her business as long as she was happy. Still, Becca should be happy _because _she felt beautiful, not because of some show she felt she had to put on for his benefit. He had to make her understand.

"You can't think of being Miss America as some standard you have to live up to," Steve stated firmly. "Someone else might have given you that name, but it's yours now. Miss America is whoever you make her. And yeah, some people will have ideas that she should be different, but you can't define yourself by what everyone else thinks of you." He gestured to himself with an understanding smile. "Just look at me. Some people expect that because I'm Captain America I'm going to say profound, patriotic things all the time or that I should be able to quote every great American document. They think I'm the spirit of America or something, but I'm not. That might disappoint them, but I can't be that person. I'd drive myself bonkers if I tried.

"Those people who say bad things about you, they're bullies. You're right. I don't care what they think." Steve clasped Becca's hand in both of his. This was what he really had to get through to her. "The only way they can get to me is by getting to you. You have to stand up to them, and I know you can. So they say I can do better than you? Every time you walk out the door with me, you're standing up to them. You're showing them that they're wrong. And if they say something about the way you look, you keep doing whatever it is that makes you feel beautiful because that's what matters, not what anyone else thinks. Although, if you wanted an opinion, I still think you're the prettiest girl there is. Doesn't matter if you weigh a hundred pounds or two hundred or – or if you're wearing a dress or a hospital robe." He tugged lightly on her sleeve, and Becca smiled. "You don't have to change your looks just because more people are paying attention. Don't ever think that."

Becca looked him over and said, "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

Steve was uncertain if that meant he had gotten through, but the only way to find out for certain was by waiting to see what happened in the future. At any rate, they had a chance at a future now, and he promised himself that he would be paying exceptionally close attention to how Becca handled it.

"You talked to me when no one else did," Steve replied. "That and you introduced me to ice cream shakes from Black Ice."

Becca laughed. "Definitely a worthy achievement. And, you know, that might not have been a patriotic speech, but it was a little profound."

"Was it? Well, I guess you bring out the best in me."

"Okay, let's not cross over into romance movie clichés here 'cause you know how I feel about romance movies."

"Sorry." During the silence that fell, Steve gently rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. He was almost content except for one small desire. "If we're avoiding romance movie clichés, does that mean I can't kiss you?"

"You do not want to kiss me right now. Trust me." Becca grimaced. "My mouth tastes gross, and I can't imagine my lips are any better."

"Hmm."

Her lips tasted of Vaseline and faint, bitter flavor that Steve associated with the smell of medical buildings. He could feel how dry they were as well, the cracks and flakes creating an unfamiliar texture, but that was all right. All that mattered was that he could kiss Becca again after the possibility of losing her. Although, Steve was aware the possibility still existed. The doctors and nurses hadn't said that she was in the clear yet, but being in a hospital was the safest place for her.

"Unless you'd like my parents to know we've been smooching, you might want to remove the evidence," Becca suggested with a wink. "You've got a little… well, let's hope it's just Vaseline."

Since Steve absolutely did not want Becca's parents to think about him kissing their daughter, he took out the unused tissue Molly had given him earlier and wiped his lips clean. As he replaced the tissue in a pocket in case he needed it again, Steve realized that Molly had been gone quite a while. Finding a spare blanket should have taken a few minutes at most. He guessed she could be talking to a nurse or doctor about Becca. For someone who was mostly quiet, she had a lot of questions whenever Dr. Braxton came in, but her concern was understandable.

"Your parents seem nice," Steve observed.

"My dad said the same thing about you, and I can tell my mom would agree. But then, I never doubted they'd like you."

"It's still good to hear." While Steve had thought he got along all right with Becca's parents, he'd been a bit doubtful nevertheless, and he wanted to leave her family with a good impression.

"Mmm. Speaking of my parents though, what's taking my mom so long? Not that this alone time hasn't been nice, but wasn't she just getting a blanket?" Becca groaned. Steve nearly sprung to his feet to get help, but stopped when Becca grumbled, "She better not be buying me a blanket. She did that after my accident, but last time I was in for a week. I really hope I'm not here for a week. Although…" She frowned at the tubes which disappeared beneath the robe over her chest. "Has anyone said how long I might be here?"

"No."

"Go figure. I'll ask Dr. Braxton when he comes around. I have a feeling I'm going to be stuck for a while."

"Maybe it won't be that bad. And I'll stay with you." Steve was supposed to report back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in five days, but he'd have to call Nick. Becca needed him here. He would stay at least until she got out of the hospital. "Then once you're out of the treatment center, we can –"

"I have to go to a treatment center?" Becca groaned. "What, is there some kind of heart therapy thing I have to do?"

"No. I don't think so."

Steve was stepping onto uncertain ground, and he didn't like the feeling. Dr. Braxton probably hadn't mentioned any addiction treatment centers, having only been alone with Becca for a very short time. The sense Steve had gotten was that the Dr. Braxton was waiting to see how Becca got along, dealing with one problem at a time. Or maybe Dr. Braxton would talk to her once she was alone again so as not to worry her parents. However, Steve had started on the subject, so he couldn't backtrack. He remembered that both Dr. Braxton and Ally had been adamant that they'd have to be careful when discussing addiction with Becca.

"So what treatment?" asked Becca.

"Well, uh, to help you get off your medication."

"I don't need help getting off my medication."

As though he hadn't done enough damage, Steve knew he shouldn't have suggested that Becca needed help. "I'm sure you could do it by yourself, but maybe it couldn't hurt to have other people around who understand what you're going through."

Becca snorted, unconvinced. "At a treatment center? Those places are for _addicts_. I'm not addicted to my medication. I need it for medical reasons."

"Uh."

Steve stared at her. He had no idea how he was supposed to move forward from here. Dr. Braxton had mentioned that a lot of addicts will deny their addictions and it took patience to get them to come around, but he hadn't said _what _to do when faced with that denial. Steve wished he hadn't brought up the subject without having more information first. He was afraid of doing more harm than good. Changing topics completely seemed like the best plan.

"Besides, I need my medication for a few more weeks at least until my nerves are all healed," Becca asserted. "So I can't get off it yet."

Steve was so baffled that he forgot about changing topics. "But you overdosed."

"Because I wasn't careful. I'm usually much more careful."

"But…" Steve didn't understand how Becca could continue to take the medication that had almost killed her. "But aren't there any other options?"

"I wish. Other painkillers don't work so well on me, and I can't deal with being on Oxy without Adderall again. I just can't."

"But Ally said you were healing. Is the pain really –"

"Steve, I'm tired, I'm sore, I'm in the hospital, and I almost died. Can we not argue right now? Please?" Becca pleaded, her hand beginning to tremble. "I don't want to argue with you again today."

When they'd been speaking, it was easy to forget how much Becca had been physically affected by everything she'd gone through. As she begged with him, however, Steve was struck again by how frail and sick she looked. The dark shadows beneath her eyes accused him for arguing, and the wet sheen of impending tears made him feel terrible for not understanding. Becca needed to rest and have his support. Her addiction was a battle for another day, soon but not in this moment.

"Sure. I'm sorry." Steve pulled out the tissue and made sure to use a clean corner to wipe away her tears before they could fall. "I didn't mean to get you upset."

"It's okay." Becca sniffed. "I know you didn't."

Steve kissed her temple. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

But while they moved on to more pleasant things, and Molly returned with a colorful, new blanket, and Ally and Ben arrived to fill the room with chatter and laughter, Steve couldn't quite stop worrying about what would happen when the battle couldn't wait another day.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Yeah, so everything has not been as resolved as it first appeared. Denial is not fun. **

**Thanks for the support! Only a few chapters left, which is crazy to me. See you in a week. **

**(N: Thanks! I guess this chapter was some of what you were looking forward to, although not so much on the rehabilitation. It's a tough road.**

**A: Thank you! I think "intense" was the right word, emphasis on the "tense" part haha**

**Guest #1: Well, that's understandable. Becca hasn't exactly be treating him the best, but such is the unfortunate nature of addiction. **

**Guest #2: Through all those reviews I was just waiting for you to get to the OD chapter, knowing it was what you were afraid of. Hopefully this chapter was a bit of a relief, although I won't comment on how this fic will end 'cause spoilers!) **


	24. Drawing the Line

After twenty-four hours without a secondary collapse in her heart, Becca was moved up from ICU to the cardiology ward where she spent the next three days. In her opinion, that was three days too many, but she didn't complain. Not as much as she felt like complaining anyway, which was most of the time. Being waited on hand and foot was grating, and not getting enough of her medication did nothing to make her less irritated. On the other hand, she didn't have to deal with constant flux of friends and family members like after her accident because none of them knew she was still in the hospital.

Ally had been the one to find out that the media reported Becca had suffered a bad case of food poisoning. They had gotten a hold of a picture of "Becca" returning to her apartment with a tip from "a friend" that she was resting but ultimately fine. Becca, Ally, and her parents had all been baffled by the story. Becca was even more confused twenty minutes later when Steve had showed up in a sweatshirt with sunglasses clutched in his hand. She had never, ever seen Steve wear a sweatshirt. In fact, she wouldn't have even guessed he owned one.

Steve had explained – looking uncomfortable the whole time – that S.H.I.E.L.D. had created the food poisoning incident as a cover story. While he stressed this wasn't his plan, he suggested going along with the story might be a good idea so Becca could recover in peace. Everyone had agreed, especially Becca. The last thing she wanted was for the media to know she'd overdosed on medication. One, they might do some sniffing around and find out she had gotten the Adderall illegally, which fortunately no one seemed to have discovered. Two, she could just imagine the rumors this would start about a suicide attempt or an addiction.

Addiction seemed the most likely rumor since Becca was pretty sure that's what everyone here thought. The doctors definitely had her pegged as an addict. Dr. Lee, the physician she'd been assigned in the cardiology ward, had hinted as much with her questions and talk about Becca's "condition." Becca hadn't been sure of Dr. Lee's opinion in the beginning, but then she brought around an addiction counselor. Oh, the counselor had been very nice and _acted_ understanding. He assured Becca that they didn't need to know where she had gotten her Adderall from, and seeing an addiction for what it was could be difficult sometimes, and blah blah blah.

As soon as she saw that protesting got her nowhere, Becca did lots of nodding. Of course the hospital could contact Dr. Barrett. Sure, have him fill a prescription for medication that would help her get off Oxy. That'd be great. She would be grateful for the numbers of local rehab centers. A folder full of information on coping with addiction? How thoughtful. Thank you. Before her parents and Steve came back in, Becca shoved the folder beneath the books and other distractions from home that were being kept in a bedside drawer. That night, when she was alone, it went in the trash.

Actually, Becca wasn't too sure that seeing the folder would have made all that much difference. She had the sneaking suspicion that her parents, Steve, and Ally already thought she was an addict, too. Steve's mention of treatment centers had been the tip off, although he hadn't brought them up again. Then, there were the looks they all gave her. Sideways glances like they had something to say, but didn't know when or how to say it. With doctor-patient confidentiality, they couldn't know everything. She had lied and told them the counselor was for coping with near death experiences. Dr. Lee, like Dr. Braxton, always cleared out the room before their talks because Becca told him that she preferred not to worry anyone with details. Yet, there were those eight hours during which she was unconscious where questions might have been answered and assumptions made. So when Dr. Lee said she was being released the next day, Becca waited for the inevitable confrontation.

When Ally came by in the morning instead of after work, Becca expected an intervention, but she had only hung around for fifteen minutes. "I have a meeting nearby anyway," she had explained. Around noon, Dr. Lee came in to say goodbye and wish Becca luck. She had a splitting headache, felt mildly nauseated, and was experiencing a familiar dull ache at the base of her neck. The parking garage was swelteringly hot, and while her mother had gone out early to turn on the air conditioning, the car had yet to cool. As though she didn't have enough to deal with, Becca was coming to understand the origin of the phrase "tension so thick you could cut it with a knife" because tension filled the air around her, nearly as oppressive as the heat.

Her mom kept glancing in the rearview mirror, gripping the steering wheel so hard Becca wouldn't have been surprised if she left handprints. Her dad talked a little, about the heat and the traffic, but would trail off every few minutes. Steve was holding her hand, which proved worrisome as he had barely touched her at all in front of her parents. While his hand wasn't cooling her down any, Becca let it be. She was going to need someone on her side, and Steve was her only hope. She had already talked him into getting her out of a hospital after the invasion, so she knew making him see things her way was possible. Her parents and Ally would do whatever they thought best, no matter what she said. When lines got drawn in the sand, Becca would prefer not to be standing on her side alone.

Becca leaned under the air vent, checking all the unread texts and e-mails on her phone. Most were concerned messages or wishes for a speedy recovery. A few were work e-mails, but she had taken the week off. Some reporters had gotten a hold of her e-mail address, too. Those messages got marked as spam and deleted. A text alert from that morning informed Becca that her prescription was ready for pickup. Dr. Barrett had filled a prescription for Methadone, which the counselor had talked about as the most common way of getting off Oxy. Supposedly, it would help with Adderall withdrawal as well. However, Becca had no intention of going off her medication until she was healed in a minimum of a few weeks. Potentially she could text Derek and see if he could get her Oxy as well as Adderall, but she was concerned about S.H.I.E.L.D. interfering since they'd put effort into covering up her overdose. How she was going to get her meds now, Becca had no idea, but she had to deal with one problem at a time. First, she would need to find a way to be alone because her parents would definitely want to hang around her apartment for awhile.

Glancing out the window, Becca realized they had passed by the street to her neighborhood. "Mom, you're going to want to make a right up here. You missed the street." She hadn't thought the atmosphere could get any tenser, but it did.

"No, dear. This is the right way."

Becca looked at her mom in the mirror, but now she seemed to be avoiding eye contact. Steve's hand tightened around hers, and she got an uneasy feeling. "Where are we going?"

Her parents glanced at each other. "Well… sweetheart… you know how much we love you," her dad ventured, a statement which was never the precursor to anything but an argument. "And of course we want you to get better as fast as possible, so we found a – a place that it's… well…"

"It's very private," added her mother. "And was highly recommended."

"Yes, and their website talked a lot about how their recovery program has a lot options, so in a way it's self directed. We know how much you like to do things by yourself."

"But you'd still have people for support when you needed it. People who understood your… situation."

"Situation. You mean addiction. Right, Mom?" Becca asked. She had known this was coming, but had thought she would be in her apartment where standing her ground would be less of a problem. She hadn't expected them to try and cart her straight to a rehab center. Anger bubbled up. "You're driving me to rehab for my addiction?"

"It's a treatment center for –" her mom began to correct, but Becca interrupted.

"You can call it what you want. It's rehab, and you're trying to press gang me into going."

Steve intervened. "Please hear them out."

"Unbelievable." Becca snatched her hand away from his. "I should have expected something like this from them, but you I thought I could trust." Steve actually had the nerve to look hurt.

"Now, I know you're upset," her dad soothed, leaning around his seat to look at her. "But that's no reason to –"

"Upset?" scoffed Becca. "Oh, I'm not upset. I am _pissed off_." Her head was really throbbing, pain turning each word into a knife. "What? Did you think I needed to be shepherded to rehab like some crack whore who doesn't know what's good for her? And I suppose you brought the muscle so you could drag me from the car kicking and screaming 'cause it'd really look like I was fucked up then, wouldn't it?"

"Rebecca, we're trying to help," her mother snapped. "There's no need for that kind of language."

"You're dragging your supposedly drug addicted daughter to rehab, and you're concerned about _language_? Are fucking kidding me, Mom?" Her mother glared into the mirror, but Becca refused to be cowed like she was a little kid. "Did any of you consider for even one second that maybe I'm not an addict? Gee, maybe, like – Maybe I have a tolerance to the medication that I _need,_ and so I made a mistake this one fucking time and OD'd. News flash, overdosing doesn't mean I'm automatically a drug addict."

"We know that," Steve assured her. He made a move to touch her, but he dropped the hand as she glowered at him. "It's more than the overdose."

"Is it something the doctors said? Because they obviously didn't understand my situation."

"It's more than that, too."

"Well, this should be good." Becca folded her arms. She was sure she had a reasonable explanation for anything Steve and her parents had come up with, along with Ally. Her friend's appearance that morning now made perfect sense. "All right. Let's hear it."

Steve glanced towards her parents as though to check if they wanted to explain, but her father looked back helplessly and her mother was silent. "You've been different, Becca. Ally might have noticed first, but I was starting to see it, too. I just wish I'd see it sooner." He sighed. "You weren't eating right. You lost all this weight. You cut yourself off from all your friends. You're late on your work. When I came to visit, your eyes were all glassy. Apparently, they'd been that way for a week, and you were having some trouble talking straight. Sometimes it's like you have enough energy to run around the world twice over and other times you're distant, tired. And then sometimes you get…" Since he paused, Becca suspected the options Steve mulled over were pretty bad. "…mean. Ally said that lately seeing you is 'like flipping a coin. You don't know which side will turn up.' It's not like you to get like that.

"If you were really thinking straight, I know you'd try to get off this medication as soon as a doctor even suggested it. And we know your doctor suggested it, Becca, because we were told in the ER that your nerves are healing. We were also told it's unusual to be on Oxycodone for so long _because _it's addictive. And we know that Adderall can be addictive, too. This medication is hurting you. That should be enough reason to get off it, but I know you care about other people more, so… it's hurting us, too. Your parents." Steve gestured to them, drawing Becca's gaze. Her parents did look pretty run down. "Ally, me. I won't speak for your parents, but I think they'd agree that getting that call from Ally was scary as hell. I didn't know whether you'd make it. And if you keep taking that medication, I'm going to spend every minute afraid of getting another call. You said yourself that you got lucky. Well, next time you might not."

Sadness filled Steve's eyes, the deep, overwhelming kind that made Becca want to reach out to him. "I have lost everyone I ever cared about. Either they're gone or – or it's just too late, and I can't…" He clenched his hands into fists and swallowed. "I'm asking you, please, don't make me lose you, too."

All of the seething anger had drained, leaving Becca with only the dull pangs of remorse. She wouldn't OD again. She was going to be especially careful with her medication. No one had to worry. The promise rested on the tip of her tongue, but she knew better than to release it. Nothing she could say was going to convince them. Her parents would be too afraid for their daughter. Ally would be too afraid to find her lying in another pool of vomit. And Steve had made his fears clear. He had lost everything. How could she blame him for being anxious about her? How could she blame any of them?

Becca knew she wasn't an addict, so maybe this was her chance to prove it. At least, she had to try to drop her medication. She was healing. The pain might not be too bad. There would be some withdrawal symptoms, of course. No one took medication for nearly six months without withdrawal. Since she'd gotten this awful headache after they'd taken her off the IVs, she imagined a headache was one symptom, but headaches were manageable. Surely withdrawal from medication couldn't be as bad as the horror stories of shivering, vomiting messes that resulted from getting off of hardcore drugs. Besides, Methadone was supposed to help with withdrawal.

"I'm not saying I'm an addict because I'm not, but if it will make everyone feel better, I will stop taking Oxy and Adderall," Becca decided. Relief spread throughout the car, as physical a sensation as the tension had been. "_But_ I'm not going to rehab. I know you can't make me go without my consent, and you won't convince me so…"

After a moment, her mother offered, "Your father or I will stay with you if you want to try at home."

"That's not necessary. I can do it myself, and Ally will be around to check in before and after work."

Dealing with the lack of her usual medication would be tough enough without one of her parents hovering. Becca had allowed them to fuss over her in the hospital. If she had to put up with being treated like an invalid for another week or so, she was going to explode. And she couldn't ask her parents to take however much time off of work just to sit there babying her.

"Sweetheart, I think we would feel better if one of us were there," her father asserted. "Just in case you needed anything."

Becca read between the lines. They were also concerned she'd go back to taking her medication. "Well, I won't. Even if I do, Ally will be there for whatever I need. It'll be just like after my accident. Give me a week and then you can visit."

No one looked pleased with that plan.

Hoping to persuade them, Becca pressed onward. "I'll be fine. No Oxy. No Adderall. I promise. And besides, I don't want the paparazzi finding out who you two are and bothering whoever stays if you have to go out and get food or something."

Her mother merely sighed, but Steve proposed, "I can stay with you."

Immediately, Becca opened her mouth to turn him down, but she had a thought that gave her pause. Steve wouldn't coddle her like her parents did, and it looked like her parents intended that one of them would stick around no matter how much she protested. She'd definitely rather spend a week with him than her parents. Steve was more likely to listen to her if she said she needed space or wanted to do something herself. Plus, should it turn out that she needed her medication again after all, Becca thought he'd be the easiest one to convince.

Becca took a breath and said, "Okay."

* * *

Steve walked into Becca's apartment and set his bag down beside the couch. He had been dropped at his apartment less than an hour ago, where he'd packed and called Nick to say he'd be taking more time to look after Becca. Nick had suggested she would be better off at a treatment center, but Steve knew that she wouldn't be persuaded. If she found getting off medication without professional help to be too much of a struggle, maybe then he could convince her. In the meanwhile, Steve was glad she had accepted help of any kind.

He had done his research. The first week would be difficult, and possibly the next week would be as well. Becca would get sick, yell, plead, cry, lie, and be a whole other person. Steve wasn't sure how ready he was to see her that way, but he knew that on the other end she'd be Becca again. He could bear the responsibility of taking care of her, especially since that removed the obligation from her parents or Ally. They were good people, and Steve knew Becca wouldn't want to hurt them. If she needed a target this week, better it was him. He had told Nick that more or less, and there had been no further argument. Nick had wished him luck and promised to have someone send an e-mail with information about dealing with the particulars of Becca's addiction. After hanging up, Steve had headed here.

Ben closed the front door. "Becca's putting away the groceries with Molly. I think my wife bought you enough food to stay for a month."

"I hope it won't take that long, for Becca's sake." Although, Steve thought the press would be over the moon if he did stay in the apartment a month. With the bag in his hand, the few reporters outside had been bursting with questions about whether he was moving in.

"So do I." Ben drew out a piece of paper from his front pocket. "This is our numbers, cell, work. There's also a number for my sister, Caroline. She lives just outside the city, so she's the closest relative. I've talked to her and explained the situation. You call any of those numbers anytime you need. We can get here in about two hours if need be."

"Thanks," said Steve, accepting the paper.

"And this –" Ben took out an orange medication bottle. "– is Becca's medication. I guess this Methadone helps with withdrawal symptoms. She already had a dose ten minutes ago. It's two of those pills every six hours. She already threw a fit because we wouldn't let her have the bottle, but… what with…"

Steve held out his hand for the bottle. "I understand. I'll keep it on me." Until Becca had proven she could make better choices about her medication, Steve figured handling the doses himself was the smartest plan.

Ben watched the bottle disappear into his pocket, chewing on the same side of his lip that Becca worried when she was nervous. Steve wondered if she had ever noticed where she'd gotten the habit.

"Molly or I would be happy to stay if you'd rather. I know that Becca can be difficult sometimes. She's never been afraid to be vocal about her opinions under the best of circumstances. Between that and the… cleanup that might be involved, no one would think less of you for leaving Becca with us."

"With respect, I have been in a war." It would take a lot more than shouting and vomit for Steve to feel overwhelmed.

"Yes, of course. I meant no offense."

"None taken, sir."

Ben glanced over to the kitchen where Molly and Becca were busy fitting groceries into the fridge. "I only thought that when it's something personal, it might be hard in a different way."

With a frustrated huff, Becca threw up her hands and flung open cabinets to put away the other food. She caught them looking and stopped. "What?"

"Nothing, sweetheart," Ben placated. "Just thinking how beautiful you are."

Becca rolled her eyes. "_Dad_, really?" However, her irritated expression softened, at least until Molly called her over.

"I know it'll be hard," Steve conceded once he was certain that she was no longer listening. "But Becca wanted me here. I think we should show that we trust her a little. Then, maybe she'll trust us enough to see we're doing the right thing and not just forcing her hand."

Her comment about not trusting him still stung a bit. Steve understood why Becca felt betrayed, but he hoped to earn back her trust. He had only agreed to go along with the secret plan because he believed Becca might not dismiss the option of going to a treatment center if she got to talk to some people there.

"I – I care very much about your daughter," he continued, "and I'll do the best I can for her."

Ben nodded and smiled. "I'm sure you will, and I appreciate that." He pulled Steve into a brief hug, which Steve was slowly growing used to happening. With a friendly slap on the back, Ben noted, "Sounds like it's getting heated in there. We should probably go in and uh..." He scratched his cheek. "'Divide and conquer' isn't right, is it?"

"No." Steve grinned. "But I've got an idea on the strategy."

While Ben went to help put away groceries, Steve drew Becca out of the kitchen on the pretext of needing to know where he should put his bag. Her bedroom had been given a thorough cleaning since he'd last visited. The air still smelled faintly of cleaning product. The bed was neatly made. All her belongings were either put away or laying in an orderly fashion. The effect was disconcerting, as though someone had taken all of Becca's stuff and placed it in a new room. Undoubtedly, this was Molly's work. Steve suspected that everything would return to its usual untidy state within a week.

His intention had been to get Becca out of the kitchen for a couple of seconds to cool off so that she might be less argumentative when returning. However, she asked with rare timidity if he would like a drawer to put his things in. Steve hadn't thought much about the offer until he finished unpacking. His clothes were tucked away in the dresser. His toothbrush rested in a cup in the bathroom. His books were stacked on a shelf. His laptop sat on the desk beside hers. He was only staying for a week or so, but setting himself up in Becca's apartment had created an air of permanence. Steve guessed that was why she had been so shy, but he found the step to be reassuring.

The last of the groceries had to be stuffed into the packed fridge. After a final inspection of the apartment proved there was nothing more to do, Ben and Molly said their goodbyes. Becca then suggested watching a movie, "You haven't watched _Harry Potter_ yet, have you? There are eight movies, but we have the week." She took a pillow from her bedroom and stretched out on the couch, her feet resting on his lap.

Steve's attention kept drifting from the screen, so he had only faint ideas about what was happening between the magic, children, and some vague, evil character no one seemed to want to name. Mostly he was concerned about Becca, whose cheeks took on a dusting of feverish pink. He got her a blanket when she began shivering and a box of crackers when she asked for them. During the second movie, she fell asleep. Steve waited to make sure she was sleeping deeply before carrying her to bed. He left the bedroom door open so he could hear any sounds of distress and tackled reading through the e-mailed file from S.H.I.E.L.D. about withdrawal.

Ally came home shortly after he'd reached halfway through the file. She had been informed of the situation, and Becca had apparently also hinted that she should spend the week with Danny. Steve carefully stated that he didn't meant to kick Ally out of her own apartment, but he thought that might be for the best. Becca could be getting up in the middle of the night and the presence of two people helping out was likely to make her really peeved. Ally agreed and packed a bag. She promised to stop by daily in case he needed a break, teasingly reminded him that Becca needed lots of rest without "canoodling," and left. On his own once more, Steve returned to reading the file.

An anguished gasp let Steve know that Becca had woken up. He started to his feet, the sound of something hitting the floor spurring him to run to her bedroom. Becca was sprawled on the floor, one foot tangled in her blankets. The pungent smell of vomit reached his nose, and as she struggled to push off the floor, some dripped from her hair. He knelt beside her, using one arm to support her weight while he freed her leg. She still shivered with fever. Her breath came in harsh gasps like the kind he'd gotten during asthma attacks.

Steve set a hand on the center of the chest, a trick his mother had used. "Becca." She stared at him, eyes wide with panic. "I need you to breathe with me. Slow breaths, all right?"

He breathed in and out, willing her breathing to slow. Gradually, Becca calmed. As she shuddered and bent forward, Steve got his arm out of the way just in time. He tried to keep her hair back as she threw up, but bunches were already wet with sick.

"I'm sorry," Becca sniffed finally, wiping her mouth. Her shoulders hunched in shame.

"Don't worry about it," Steve soothed, rubbing her arm. "Are you all right?"

"I – I'm not feeling too well. I had a bad nightmare, and, um… I'm sorry."

Vivid dreams, anxiety, confusion, nausea, vomiting. It seemed to Steve that the Methadone wasn't helping too much so far, but he had read about how her body had to adjust to the medication. The first day would still be the hardest. Methadone only limited the symptoms of a withdrawal and curbed cravings to a point.

"It's fine. Really. Do you want to go back to bed or do you want to take a shower?"

"A shower." Becca made to stand, so Steve helped her. However, she turned pale as soon as she was upright and burped like she was about to throw up more. "Maybe a bath." Since standing clearly made her feel worse, Steve picked her up. "I can walk."

"I don't mind carrying you."

Becca frowned in annoyance. "That's not the point."

"I know you can walk, but this takes less time and I feel better about it." Steve was coming to understand that the way to get Becca to go along with something was to mention the effect on _him _instead of pointing out what would be better for her. Such a tactic would take getting used to, but if it could shorten a few arguments, he'd attempt to remember.

Sure enough, Becca didn't say anything further. Steve set her on the rim of the bathtub and turned on the water. While she peeled off her clothes, he checked in the cupboard under the sink for cleaning supplies. Most of the brands were unfamiliar, and he scanned the labels for their uses.

"I'll deal with the floor afterwards," Becca asserted, although her tone hinted strongly that she was also instructing him not to clean.

"Uh huh." Steve found the correct bottles and walked out of the bathroom.

"Steve! I said I'll do it."

"Sorry. The water's too loud. I can't hear you," he called back and heard a quiet snarl in response. At least she didn't come after him. Making the situation about him and making joking excuses were going to be his best offensive tactics for the week it seemed.

Steve wiped up the mess on her floor. The wood was easy enough to clean, but a corner of the throw rug was stained with sick. He scrubbed away as much as he could and put the rug in an empty laundry basket. None of the closets had a washing machine. He recalled seeing a sign in the lobby for a laundry room. When Becca fell asleep again, he'd go down with the rug and her clothes.

"I'm fine," said Becca when he knocked on the open bathroom door.

"Can I come in? I'd like to put the cleaning supplies back."

"I guess." Becca eyed him sourly, rubbing either shampoo or conditioner into her hair. "I would've cleaned it up."

"Well, now you don't have to."

"I suppose I should thank you."

"You're welcome." Steve knelt to put away the supplies.

Becca made an annoyed clicking noise with her tongue, but her voice softened. "Hopefully that's the least attractive thing you have to deal with."

"You mean almost throwing up on my shoes wasn't some new way of flirting? I sure read that all wrong."

"Ha ha."

With a soft splash, Becca disappeared beneath the rim of the tub. Steve replaced the supplies and shifted to sit, leaning against a wall. It occurred to him that this was the first time he'd seen Becca naked without intensions of being intimate. He didn't feel any stirrings of desire. Although, even if he had, her biting look upon his entrance would probably have been enough to shoot them down. Still, being around her like this didn't have the detachment of seeing a nude model either.

Becca resurfaced, rivulets of water streaming over her skin. As he surveyed her, Steve realized that what he felt was a comforting familiarity. He knew the way her body felt, smelled, tasted. The weight loss had brought some changes to her shape, but if he were handed a blank sheet of paper and told to draw, he could render a near perfect sketch from memory. Yet, losing the mystery of her form had made her no less beautiful. She was like a painting in a private gallery meant just for him. Familiar, yes, but he still valued every moment he got to see her.

"You're smiling." Becca pursed her lips, uncertain and a trace suspicious. "Why are you smiling like that?"

Even when the moment was a rough patch. "I can't smile at my best girl?"

"Well, you _can_, but I don't why it's happening."

Steve shrugged. "I just love you. That's all."

"You are so…" Shaking her head, Becca squeezed soap out of a bottle and worked it into a lather on her skin. "It's, like, whenever I feel annoyed with you, you always say something that makes me feel like I can't be annoyed anymore."

While Steve hadn't been feeling any desire initially, there was something about watching the glide of her soapy hands over her skin that had an intoxicating quality. "Is that… bad?"

"I guess not. It's unfair maybe. A little. But then, I don't even know how much the 'me being annoyed' is even me right now or if it's the lack of meds or me lashing out 'cause I feel shitty or whatever." The movement of her hands abruptly lost their appeal, and Steve rubbed his wrist guiltily. He had to stay focused on what Becca needed. "So maybe it's unfair of me to even be annoyed in the first place."

"Maybe or maybe not, but I have the feeling that there are going to be times this week when you're real annoyed with me. I want you to know that it's all right if you're mad. I'm not saying I'll always do whatever makes you less mad, but I'm saying I'll understand."

Becca smiled. "See? It's stuff like this that's… If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were a truly flawless human being."

"But you do know me better."

"I do. And let me tell you, the experience has definitely knocked you down from a ten to a nine-point-five."

Steve chuckled. "You really settled when you agreed to date me, huh?"

"Yeah, you know." Becca shifted forward, flipping the lever to drain the tub. "I was holding out for a ten, but then I was like, 'Well, this guy clearly needs me.'"

"Clearly."

"I mean, no offense, but you weren't exactly going to win any awards for kissing when I found you." Becca got to her feet and tugged the shower curtain across the tub, blocking her from view. The shower came on with a hiss.

"I, uh." Steve cleared his throat. "I didn't have much experience."

"I'd gathered. But I'm sure you'll be happy to know you've improved. I'd say you're at a solid B. Maybe a B-plus."

"Maybe a B-plus?" That wasn't too good. Steve was afraid to ask how she would have rated their first kiss.

"Hey, a B is pretty solid. And you get an A for effort."

"Hmm. I think I'll have to put in some more study time." The shower turned off with a quick thudding noise. Becca's slight shiver had gotten worse, making her teeth chatter. Steve got up as she grabbed a towel. "After my study partner is feeling better, of course."

"Probably a good idea. I'm not exactly at my best." Becca rubbed the towel across her face and shoulders. "Speaking of feeling better, you have my Methadone, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I have it?"

Steve instinctively touched the pocket in which he was keeping the bottle. "You've still got –" He checked his watch. "– over an hour until your next dose."

"But I feel awful," Becca pouted. "I have a headache. I feel sick to my stomach. I'm freezing, but I'm pretty sure I have a fever. My body hurts. My neck hurts. It's a lot, okay? And I know the Methadone's supposed to help with all this. I think maybe two tablets wasn't enough. Can I just have one more, please?"

Giving in wasn't an option. Steve knew that if he gave in once, Becca would continue to lean on him. The doctor had set the amount, and those were the guidelines he'd follow.

"Nothing more until your next dose. You get two every six hours. That's what it said on the bottle."

"Yeah, but you can't always go by what's on the bottle. Sometimes you have to fiddle with the dosage a bit to figure out what works." Steve shook his head. Becca wrapped the towel around her torso and stepped out of the tub. "Half a tablet? That's not too much more. Not enough to be dangerous."

If Steve hadn't been convinced Becca was an addict before, it was this type of behavior that would have convinced him. "No. I know it's tough, but I'm not giving you any more than you need."

"But I _need_ more." When he didn't hand over any Methadone, Becca scowled. "Why do you get to decide anyway? It's my medication." She stretched out a hand. "Give me the bottle."

"I'm keeping it."

"Give it to me," she snarled, eyes flashing angrily.

"No."

Becca stared at him, seething. She thrust a finger toward the door and hissed, "Get out."

Instead of poking what might turn into a full blown fight, Steve did as she said and left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He pulled the bottle from his pocket and reread the label.

_Take 2 every 6 hours. Reduce dosage by 1/2 tablet every 3 days. _

All he had to do was keep this bottle away from Becca for the next twelve days. Steve listened to her muttering to herself in fury. Supposedly the worst would blow over by day five, but until then he would have to keep very alert.

"Do you want me to get you some clothes while I'm out here?" he asked. "I can leave them outside." Something thudded hard against the door.

Steve sighed. Apparently, she wanted to get the clothes herself.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Because someone needed to put their foot down. Becca's in need of some tough love. Needless to say, this is not going to be a fun time for either her or Steve.**

**Thanks for the continuing support. We're coming up on the end fast, so hold on for the final plunge. See y'all next week! **

**(To Mzfeebs: Thank you! I did try to do things a little differently from the other fanfictions I've read, so that's nice to hear.) **


	25. Painful Clarity

Hell. That's how Becca would have described the past four days. The first two had been the worst because she had spent most of the time either sitting on the toilet or bent over it, shivering with fever. She might feel the need to eat continuously or not at all. She either fell asleep at weird hours or had insomnia. Her head seemed intent on splitting open. Most of those symptoms had cleared up, but not all of them. Each day proved to be a new trial.

Her nerves hadn't healed completely yet, so she was in pain. The ache was manageable, very much so. In fact, she would have rated the pain level at a one or two. However, she knew that if she was taking Oxy there wouldn't be any pain at all, which proved to be a source of endless frustration. Then, there was the bone tired feeling she had that made everything seem like a monumental effort. Getting out of bed took forever. Even when she wanted to do something, like eat, it seemed hardly worth the attempt. On top of that, she felt so goddamn irritated the majority of the time. It was like being back on Oxy, except without the benefit of eliminating her pain. She hated feeling this way, hated every moment. If only she could have a little Adderall so she could cope, but Steve stomped on that idea. He didn't even want to let her out of the apartment.

Stupid fucking Steve. Becca had never thought it possible, but she was growing to hate him. He had turned her apartment into a prison where he was the warden, accompanied occasionally by Ally the prison guard. She had yelled, threatened, cried, pleaded. Nothing could persuade him to see things her way, although any tears would garner a pained look. Initially, she felt bad for upsetting him, but yesterday she had cried in front of him just to make him feel guilty. He should feel guilty. He could stop her suffering, but instead he was making her suffer. If Steve really loved her, he would never put her through this. So not only was he being completely unfair, he was a liar as well.

Becca rolled over on the bed, which she had slept in alone last night. She had to use the bathroom, but that meant getting up and potentially seeing Steve. Well, she would have to see him eventually if she wanted any Methadone. Slowly, she dragged herself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom.

Surprisingly, her morning dose was waiting next to her toothbrush, one and a half tablets. Becca swallowed the tablets down, mulling over the sparing relief the medication brought.

What she needed to do was get her hands on more Methadone. She was convinced that the dosage Steve so adamantly followed wasn't enough. Methadone should make her feel better. The problem with getting more was that Steve kept the bottle on him at all times in his front right pocket. Leaping on him and fighting for it would have been an exercise in futility, so she hadn't bothered. She had tried sneaking her hand in his pocket, but that hadn't worked. She had also attempted to get the bottle while he was sleeping, but Steve proved to be a very light sleeper. Seriously, if she so much as twitched, he woke up. The one time he ever had his pants off was in the shower. Unfortunately, he only took those when Ally was around, and they never lasted more than a few minutes.

"Morning," Steve voiced from the end of the hall.

Becca grunted in response without looking at him, went back into her room, and shut the door. She didn't even want to see his face right now, so his knocking on the door was an annoyance. If Steve thought he was getting a change of clothes, he could think again. Let him be uncomfortable in the same ones he'd worn yesterday. He deserved a little discomfort.

"What?" she snapped.

The door opened, and Steve poked his head in. Had she said he could come in? Unbelievable. She should have locked the door.

"I was wondering if you wanted me to bring you breakfast, since you should have something to eat after taking –" Steve ducked out of the doorway and shut the door because Becca threw one of her pillows at him. "So that's a no, then," she heard him say before walking back down the hallway.

No, she didn't want him bringing her breakfast like she was incapable of getting food herself. And no, she didn't want to see his stupid, understanding expression while he did so. Becca ground her teeth. She couldn't stand hearing about what she "should" do, especially when it came to her medication that Steve was holding hostage.

"Ugh. This is so fucking dumb." Becca buried her face in a pillow. How the hell was she going to get to that bottle?

Finally, a new idea struck her, and Becca was shocked at herself for not thinking of it before. There was one other situation in which Steve would have to take off his pants. Sex. But how would she get him to leave his pants unattended? She pondered for a while, sat up, and thought some more. Her eyes roved the room and landed on the mostly empty glass of water sitting on her bedside table. Perfect.

Becca drained the glass and stripped out of her pjs. She positioned herself in the typical "sexy" pose, stretched out on her side with her head resting on the back of one hand. No, wait. Steve wouldn't let himself come unless she did, too, but she didn't want to spend forever getting there. That was too much extra time where something could go wrong, not to mention she didn't really want to have sex with him in the first place. He'd get suspicious if she faked an orgasm too quickly. Unless… Becca rolled onto her back.

It was difficult to get in the mood when her mind kept focusing on the Methadone, but Becca blocked out as many thoughts as possible by focusing on a point on the ceiling and breathing as she pressed a hand between her legs.

Once Becca was ready, she called, "Steve!" Naturally, she heard him running towards her bedroom at once.

Steve flung open the door. "What –" He stopped with his mouth hanging open as his eyes traced along her naked body. "I, uh, what – I…"

"I need you to help me with something." Becca got up off the bed, swinging her hips as she stalked towards him. "You want to help me, don't you? You keep saying you do."

"I – I do," Steve affirmed, shifting in the doorway like he was unsure whether to step in or shut the door from the outside. "But I don't know if this is the best idea."

"I sorry about this morning, but I think it's the withdrawal." Becca stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. "It's doing weird things to my hormones, and I _need_ you, Steve." She guided one of his hands between her thighs. "See? That's just from imagining you touching me."

The conflict began draining from Steve's face. His breath was taking on a ragged edge that meant he was turned on.

"Get on the bed," Becca purred, using the kink she'd discovered as a final push: how much Steve liked a woman in charge. "And if you don't say my name when you come, I'll be _very _put out." She gripped his shirt and pulled him down so their lips were nearly touching. "Understood?"

Steve's eyes had gone dark with lust. "Uh huh."

"Good." Becca kissed him, smiling in satisfaction as Steve pressed his lips eagerly against hers. The plan was working. She released her hold on him. "Now, go on." She had never seen anyone strip so quickly and efficiently before. If she hadn't been so intent on her goal, she might have giggled.

Walking past his pants without sparing them so much as a glance took a lot of self restraint, but Becca managed. The jerking motion of being on top of him combined with the jolt when their hips met made her feel slightly queasy. Becca focused on his face and did her best to ignore her stomach. He wouldn't take long, and she would have her Methadone.

When she could tell he was close to finishing, Becca shut her eyes, tipped her head back, and gasped in false climax. The view of her coming on top of him must have been enough because he came right after, groaning her name.

Okay, she had to handle this next part very carefully.

Becca slipped off him and lay back against the bed. Wait a few seconds. Not long enough for him to think clearly, but long enough that Steve shouldn't be wary. She let out a quiet whimper.

Starting in concern, Steve rose onto an elbow. "You all right?"

"I'm feeling a little funny." Becca scrunched up her face in discomfort and swallowed as obviously as possible without being too overdramatic. "Could you hand me my water glass?"

"Sure." Steve sat up and reached for the glass, but, of course, found it empty. "I'll go fill this."

Becca pretended like she was going to sit up. "I can do it."

"No. You stay here." A quick kiss to her temple, and Steve hurried out of the room with the glass. His pants had been left behind.

Yes! Becca slipped off the bed into a crouch and snatched up the pants. The tablets rattled softly as she took the medication bottle out, and she winced. Quickly now, and quietly. She pressed her palm against the cap to deaden the sound of the bottle opening. Four tablets slid onto her hand. Too many. Steve might notice. Three seemed safer, one for now and two tucked away for later. That had been the original plan.

Steve was coming back. Hastily, Becca popped one of the tablets into her mouth and jammed the other two under her mattress. She paused closing the bottle. Maybe just one more. When she thought about it, four wasn't really that much more noticeable than three. Five wasn't too that much of a stretch either. She could put the tablets under her mattress and then hide them around her room when Steve was gone. The Methadone was hers after all, and she needed it.

"Becca!"

Shit. Becca glanced up, clicking the cap back on. Steve looked dismayed, but more than that, he looked disappointed. Utter indignation filled her. How dare he judge her? How dare he?! There was no reason to be disappointed with her. If anything, Steve should be apologizing that he had forced her to come up with this whole scheme.

"I needed one more tablet," she snapped. "Is that a fucking crime?"

"Just give me the bottle back," Steve sighed, placing the water glass on top of her dresser and coming towards her.

Seeing his hand stretched out expectantly like an indulgent parent taking back a stolen treat from a naughty child made Becca furious. Screw his damn hero complex. He didn't get to boss her around anymore. He hadn't even been in this century half a year, but he thought he could get all high and mighty about modern medicine? Hell no. Becca stood up, clutching the bottle to her chest. This was her body. She knew what she needed. Steve didn't know shit.

"No. It's mine."

"Please give it back."

"No."

Steve shook his head like her behavior was becoming increasingly disappointing. His shoulders sagged tiredly. "I don't want to take it from you by force, but I will if I have to."

Becca bared her teeth in a snarl. "Fuck. You."

For a second, they just stood there, eyeing each other.

When they moved, the motion was nearly simultaneous. Steve launched himself towards her, and Becca dove onto her bed. She landed on her stomach and scrambled over her blankets. Steve pulled her backwards by one leg. She kicked the other foot, but he swiped that leg aside. Damn it. He pinned her down, using his weight to keep her in place with a knee against her lower back and a hand between her shoulder blades. Becca shrieked in fury, writhing in an attempt to free herself. She threw an elbow and heard him grunt as the force slammed into his ribs. He blocked the second hit. If only she had fallen on her back instead. The self defense classes had taught her how to hurt an assailant when on her back.

"Give me the bottle, Becca," Steve demanded.

Growling, Becca pulled the bottle closer, protecting it in a closed fist beneath her chin. She had to catch him unawares, that was the only chance she had. "Fine."

Steve didn't let her up like she'd hoped. "Hold out your hand." Okay, new plan. Becca set the fist with the bottle in front of her face. "Open it." She unfurled her fingers, revealing the bottle. When his hand appeared in front of her face, Becca thrust her head forward and bit down, _hard_.

With a yelp, Steve yanked his hand away. Becca snatched the bottle back towards her chest, grinning in triumph. That'll teach you, asshole. That'll… She noticed the spots of red on her bed sheet. There were three of them. The coppery taste of blood seemed to suddenly fill her mouth. Those were blood drops from Steve's hand. As Becca stared at the blood, horror sunk into her. She'd bitten Steve, sunk her teeth into him like a rabid animal. And why? Just for more Methadone?

Oh god.

* * *

Steve flexed his hand, wincing at the burning pain. She'd bit him. He almost couldn't believe it. The past days had been hard. They'd fought a lot. Becca hadn't seemed like herself most of the time. He should have known better than to sleep with her. She had obviously been planning something. He'd catch her with this unfamiliar, calculating look on her face when she thought he wasn't paying attention. The person crouched over the bottle with an angry, feral sneer was the one who'd had that look. She was the person he had been dealing with this week rising to the surface. Not Becca, but this doppelganger warped by addiction.

Blood trickled from the cut her teeth had made, but he would have to clean his hand up after. He still had to get the bottle. He could yank her arm up and pry the bottle from her hand, but if she continued to struggle so hard, he might accidently break one of her fingers or do something to the muscles in her arm if she twisted the wrong way. Rolling her over would make reaching her hand easier, but then he'd have to worry about her knees. If she managed to catch him in the groin, she might be able to slip out of his reach and then he'd be back where they started.

"Steve, please let me up."

Steve wouldn't have listened, except her voice sounded so small and broken. Cautiously, he shifted off of her back and sat on the mattress. Becca got up slowly, head bowed, and held out the bottle to him. Her eyes were trained on the bite mark she had made. He took the bottle, trying to figure out what was going on. His first guess would have been that she had returned the medication out of guilt, but she didn't look guilty. Her gaze had this quality that was both focused and not, the look of someone who had either been hit hard in the head or experienced the same feeling because they had been told something terrible that hit them like a punch.

"I think I have a problem. I think…" Becca wet her lips. "I'm addicted to prescription medication."

With that epiphany, Steve all of a sudden understood the look on her face. Finally, Becca had recognized her addiction. It had taken blood, sweat, and tears in the literal sense, but she knew now. And if she knew, Steve was certain he would no longer be battling this addiction alone because Becca would fight, too. There was only so much he could do for her. After getting clean, she could have gone back to taking medication with no one looking over her shoulder. Together though, together they could beat this.

Her eyes met his, and Becca promptly burst into tears. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Steve set the bottle aside and wrapped his arms around her. Hot tears slid from her cheek against his neck. "Everything's going to be all right."

Becca clung to him as tight as she had the bottle, but Steve didn't mind. Of those two options, he'd much rather she was holding him. "You've been trying so hard to help me, and I've been so awful. Oh my god, I'm such an idiot. How could I not have seen it?"

Many people had written whole articles on exactly how, but Steve knew he needed an answer that was short and made Becca feel like she wasn't to blame. "Sometimes it's hard to see when things go wrong if you're standing in the middle of a disaster. You were trying to do your best in a bad situation, and you got caught up. What's important is that you know now."

"But I should have known before! I should never have let things get so far. I mean, god, I used sex to get more meds, and I didn't even think twice about it. And I – your hand." Becca pulled away from him, lips parted in a gasp. "I have to get something for your hand."

Steve kept his arms around her so that she wouldn't leap off the bed. "My hand is fine. Don't worry about it. I've had bruises that hurt more than this."

"No, no, no. I have to clean it." Desperately, Becca attempted to extract herself from his hold. "Please, let me get some antiseptic."

Since Steve got the sense that this was about more than his hand, he let her go. He collapsed back against the mattress, taking the moment alone to just breathe. This had been quite the morning. First Becca hadn't even wanted to see him, but then she seemed intent on having sex with him. With her mood swings, Steve hadn't known what the hell was going on, so he'd gone along with her like a fool. Afterwards, she was yelling, fighting him, and now crying. Steve rubbed a hand over his face. He felt like he could sleep for another seventy years. Still, he'd be able to sleep better tonight knowing Becca had a breakthrough, so that was something. More importantly, she'd had the breakthrough.

Listening intently, Steve determined Becca was still in the bathroom. He picked up his clothes from the floor. They were the same ones he'd slept in overnight on the couch, so he tossed them into a laundry basket. Taking out clean pants reminded him of the medication bottle, which he'd left sitting on her bedside table. Steve considered the bottle and decided to leave it there as a show of good faith. Although he knew how many tablets were inside and would be keeping a close eye.

When Becca came back, Steve was buttoning up his shirt. Her lips didn't even twitch in response when he smiled.

"We don't have any band-aids that are big enough, but I have this." She held up a blue bottle of antiseptic and some cotton balls.

"That's fine." Steve followed her over to the bed, sitting on the edge. He held out his hand, allowing her to dab at the bite mark. The antiseptic stung, but he held his hand steady.

"I really am sorry about everything."

"I know you are. I forgive you."

Becca shook her head. "I don't understand how you can keep giving me chances after all the shit I've put you through. Most people would have run in the other direction by now."

"You're sorry, right?" Steve pointed out.

"Yeah."

"And you're going to do whatever you can to fight this addiction? Even if that means getting help from other people?"

"Of course." Becca tilted her head thoughtfully and winced. "I'm still not totally loving the idea of rehab, but I was told there are one-on-one counseling programs. I think I'll give one of those a try."

A counseling program seemed like an acceptable substitute. Steve had a hard time imagining Becca opening up about her addiction to a whole group of people, at least at first. Talking to an experienced counselor would be a step in the right direction, and if Becca was comfortable with that, she'd be more likely to stick with the help.

"Are you going to lie to me again?" he asked.

"No, never. I promise."

"Well then." Steve shrugged. "I don't see why I shouldn't give you another chance."

Becca chewed her lip. She had rubbed antiseptic all over the mark, so Steve assumed Becca had finished. However, she didn't let go, but rather folded his hand between hers. "There's something you should know before you make that decision. It's, um, not exactly a lie. It's more like a secret, but I've told some lies to keep it."

As a matter of fact, Steve thought he knew what Becca was going to tell him, but he simply said, "All right."

"The Adderall, I got it illegally," Becca confessed, blushing faintly in shame. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get tangled up in the legal side if someone found out. At least, that was one reason. I was also ashamed to be getting the Adderall at all, so I kept it a secret. I don't mean to put you in a bad position by telling you this, but I think you have the right to know."

Like he'd suspected, Steve had already known what her confession would be. Nick had told him and added that S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't going to tip anyone off. Steve still didn't know what he was going to do with the information. What Becca had done was against the law. He had read on the internet about getting medication illegally. She could go to prison for up to a year, but more likely she would get fined and put through a rehabilitation program. If he said nothing, she could walk away, but that didn't seem fair. He shouldn't be partial just because he loved her.

While the situation was a problematic one, Steve was glad not to have acted on it straight away because Becca had the chance to tell him herself. She had proven that she would tell him the truth, even if that truth was hard and could paint her in a bad light.

"Thank you for telling me," Steve said, hugging an arm around her. "I think we should concentrate on getting you better, and then we'll talk about it some more. Does that sound fair to you?"

Becca nodded and got up to throw out the used cotton balls. "So we're still a 'we,' then? I did seduce you to get drugs and then bite you."

Steve pretended to ponder. "I do like that you always find a way to keep surprising me."

"I don't think those are the good kind of surprises," Becca noted, but she finally smiled.

"Well, if it was the good kind of surprises all the time, they wouldn't be so surprising anymore."

Becca laughed. "Such a glass-half-full answer." She sat sideways on his lap and linked her arms around this neck. "But maybe I'll leave off on the bad surprises for a while."

"I'll admit the break would be nice."

"And no more yelling. And I won't kick you out of bed again."

"Great 'cause I could use a nap." Steve fell back against the bed, tugging Becca with him and grinning when she squealed. He closed his eyes. "Wake me up in a few hours. Just not with anything that involves teeth."

"Hmm, how about like this then?" Becca gently kissed him.

Against her lips, Steve mumbled, "Yeah, I think that might do it."

"Oh my god, I almost forgot." Curious, Steve opened his eyes and lifted up onto his elbows as Becca reached down beside the bed. She felt around, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Ah ha. There you are." She lifted her hand to reveal two Methadone tablets.

Steve stared at them incredulously. "You got those out and hid them? I left you alone for ten seconds."

"I also swallowed one," admitted Becca, picking up the bottle to replace the pilfered dose.

"Huh. You certainly were determined. And resourceful." Steve grinned and teased, "If you ever felt like changing jobs, S.H.I.E.L.D. could probably use someone like you. Of course, there is your life of crime to consider."

"My life of crime?" Becca snorted. "Although, if that's the way you want to see it, what does that say about you –" She poked his chest. "– for loving a criminal, Mr. Superhero?"

"Haven't you been paying attention to the movies? Heroes are always falling for you femme fatale types."

"I hardly think I'm the Moneypenny to your Bond."

Steve frowned. "Who?"

"Bond? James Bond?" With a full name, Steve recognized the fictional character, but he maintained his blank expression. Becca put a hand to her heart, clearly distressed at his lack of media culture knowledge. It never failed to amuse how much his not knowing popular movie characters got to her. "Where do I even start with this?"

Giving her a placating pat on the arm as she so often did to him, Steve assured, "I'm kidding. He's a British spy."

Becca blew out a relieved breath. "Oh good, so you've seen one of the movies then?"

"Uh, no."

"Okay, well, I'm getting dressed and then that is happening."

Steve watched as Becca went between her dresser and closet, mumbling about which of the Bond movies he absolutely _had _to see. It was good to have Becca relatively back to herself. She walked out of the room and then poked her head back in when he didn't immediately follow her.

"Are you coming or what? _Goldeneye _isn't going to watch itself."

"I'll be right there," Steve promised. When she disappeared from view, he grinned because there was one thing Becca hadn't noticed. She had left the medication bottle behind.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**And that's the last chapter. Holy smokes. I feel like I just started writing this yesterday. **

**Welp, Becca hit rock bottom, but it's what she needed to see the light. Of course, the road to recovery is still a long process. Fortunately for Becca, she has Steve and other support around her. ****I'm sure some of you are curious as to what happens to this couple in the future. There will be a brief epilogue going up in a few days, which will include a special announcement to that end. **

**Thanks for all the support. ****(To N: That she is. That she is.) **


	26. Epilogue

"Hey Becca!"

"What? Ah!"

Becca turned and shielded her face as her brother leapt into the pool next to her, sending up a spray of water. Seth had been doing the same thing since they were kids, but she hadn't learned apparently. His friend Amar laughed from up on the pool deck. As soon as Seth popped up, Becca splashed water towards both of them, which instigated more splashing.

"Hey. Watch it, you two," complained Ally without lifting her head from the floating raft. "I'm trying to dry off over here." Becca and Seth looked at each other and grinned. They waited for Ally to shut her eyes before quietly approaching her. She peeked an eye open just in time to see them. "Oh, no. Don't you –"

They flipped her over and gave each other a high five.

Becca felt good. It had been over a month since she got clean. She had signed up for a counseling program, and she really liked her counselor. They met twice a week now to check in. Eventually, the appointments would lessen to once a week and then every other week and so on. Addiction was a lifelong battle, but she would to her best to be on the winning side. It was hard sometimes. She missed the energy Adderall had given her. Dealing with the remaining pain of her nerve injury hadn't been much fun, but she had healed to the point that her neck barely bothered her anymore.

After talking the situation over with Steve, Becca had decided to come clean about getting the Adderall illegally. She'd gone to a police station and filled out a confession. An officer had contacted her the next day to say that her case had been thrown out. When she'd been baffled, the officer noted that she "had friends in high places." Whether that meant S.H.I.E.L.D. had yet again intervened or someone else was protecting Steve, Becca wasn't sure. As an alternative penance, she volunteered with Narcotics Anonymous, using her skills as a copywriter to help with their campaigns. They also needed sponsors, and she was considering going through the training.

As for her relationship with Steve, everything had stabilized back into normalcy, as normal as it could get anyway when dating a superhero. After detoxing, Becca had invited him to keep the dresser drawer for his stuff. It was a step towards a future together, one which he'd accepted. Maybe they wouldn't last, but they'd toughed out a lot together. Becca wasn't too concerned about looking ahead. Well, okay, she was looking ahead a bit towards when he came back from the latest mission, but way in the future? More aliens could drop down from the sky at any minute. No thanks. She'd concentrate on enjoying this mini vacation at her parent's house.

Her mom opened the screen door, smiling. "Becca, someone's here for you. Take a towel so you don't track water through the house."

* * *

Steve waited in the living room, glancing over family pictures on the wall. Beside him sat a bag with his swim suit and towel which Becca had advised him to bring if he stopped by. He stood near the air conditioner, cooling down from the slow ride through town. It was a hot day, although not quite as hot as it had been in Peru. Walking off the plane this morning had felt like relief for a while, though not as much as a cold shower had. Two days, and he would be getting on another plane to leave for another week. Naturally, he had to see Becca before that happened. Since he'd been invited up to her parents should he come back while she was there, Steve didn't feel like he was intruding.

Becca appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a towel. She looked much better than she had a month ago. No more deep frowns or tired rings around her eyes. She had gained some of her weight back. There were little personality differences he'd noticed. Her energy had dipped of course, but not so much that she became inactive. She wasn't quite as talkative as she had once been. However, she still loved to tease, and her quiet moments never felt like she was drifting away from him. Becca was still Becca, and he was proud of her.

"Hi," she greeted, strolling across the room. "I didn't know you were coming home."

"I didn't either, but I did call when I landed."

"Ah, I haven't been paying attention to my phone. I would hug you, but I've been in the pool."

While on his mission, there had been a shoot out in a wine cellar. Steve had learned that walking around soaked in wine on a hot day was not at all a comfortable experience. A little pool water wasn't going to be a problem for him.

"Well, fortunately, I don't melt in water. Hang on." Steve emptied his pockets into the bag by his feet.

"That looks like your sketch paper," Becca noted, gesturing hopefully towards a folded up paper. "A present?"

Since Becca had enjoyed his first sketch so much, Steve had decided that he'd continue to bring her one home each time. The last sketch had been a cartoon of various dogs at a European café, which was sort of a commentary on the mission. This time he'd gone for realism because he had passed a trellis of interesting flowers that stuck with him. He figured Becca would find the image pretty, and while he was sketching a woman on the trellis, the figure had slowly turned into her.

"It is, but I think someone –" Steve twisted a strand of her wet hair between two fingers. "– would be upset if they dripped on their present."

"Good point. I suppose I'll settle for a kiss in the meantime."

Obligingly, Steve leaned down for a kiss. The towel she wore was damp and cool, but he could feel the gentle warmth of her body beneath. He had missed holding her, missed sleeping next to her, too. After they'd finally had that whole day in bed together Becca had promised him, facing an empty bed seemed almost lonely. Steve pressed a second kiss to the top of her head.

"So now that you're all wet, do you want to jump in the pool?" Becca asked. "My brother totally soaked me, and you look like you could do a mean cannonball. You know, to avenge your girl?"

Steve chuckled. "Sure, let me just get into my swim suit."

"Please tell me it's Captain America themed."

From in his bag, Steve pulled out the navy blue swimsuit that S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him during training. "Does this count? It's the same color as my new suit."

"Ooo, they finally finished your new suit? I need details." Becca took his hand and led him towards the doorway. "This way. We'll walk and talk."

Steve followed beside her, describing his suit. He wasn't sure how he felt about the change, but he would get used to the suit eventually. He might still be that kid from Brooklyn, but when the world changed, you had to make changes with it. Besides, there were some changes to like. Having a beautiful woman holding his hand and smiling as he talked, for starters. Had Becca never walked by him in the park that day, he wouldn't have had that right now. Had he not crashed the plane, would he? Maybe with Peggy. It was difficult to say, but then, he didn't like to look to the past too much. He had made his choices, and there was no going back. The only way to move was towards the future, and Steve just hoped that Becca would be there right along with him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**SEQUEL ANNOUNCEMENT! **

**While the story of Becca's addiction has come to an end, the story of Steve and Becca has not. I've decided to write a sequel! However, a lot will have happened between this ending and the sequel, so I will first be putting out a collection of one-shots called _Moments of Clarity_. **

**Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed. Thanks also to the people who have shared their stories of struggling with addiction. It's a long and never-ending battle. Do the best you can. **


End file.
